The fourth house of Hogwarts
by evil minded
Summary: AU / An artifact was missing. A house was missing. And the sorting hat will have to sort it out. It makes its own decisions together with the castle. Will two persons within find their freedom after a long time of terror? - This story is on hold due to privat trouble, but it is not up for adoption, I'll continue with this one eventually ... thanks for your understanding ...
1. prologue

**Title:**

The fourth house of Hogwarts

**Timeframe:**

Four years before Harry's first year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

An artifact was missing. A house was missing. And the sorting hat will have to sort it out. It makes its own decisions together with the castle. Will two persons within find their freedom after a long time of terror?

**Disclaimer: **

Well ... I do not own Harry Potter, Severus, or Hogwarts, nor any their friends or belongings ... J. K. Rowling owns them all ... I am just about to mess around a bit in her books ...

I will try to write legible ... and well ... I promise I will not mess around with the ink ... and I will not use her quills and inkpot either, nor her parchments … I have some of my own …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Öhm ... ok ... I have to admit ... English is not my language by birth ... so ... please do not kill me while reading ... neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing ... as there is Harry Potter being abused by his relatives …

don't like it, don't read it …

**Added note:**

I know that the Weasley twins were attending Hogwarts two years before Harry's first year, but I need them there now, two years earlier than in the original books written by Rowling and thus I just decided to make them two years older and place them there this year.

**Warning:**

Story contains child abuse

Child-abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing ... and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped ...  
I think, a lot of readers do not really grasp the meaning behind the words in all the stories here written about an abused Harry, they read the words, maybe they feel sorry for poor Harry ... but I guess just a few are really able to know what they mean, those words, what they mean for those children in our world ... Yet, closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist, is no solution ...  
So I write this not only because it was a crazy idea of mine, but also to remind all of you who will read this, that there are children in our world which are enduring just such ... and worse ... to remind you of your feelings, of your sympathy, and of your understanding ...  
Maybe it will help some of you to handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs - whichever - of once being abused ... with understanding and with help ...

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be ... ^.~ ... believe me - I am ...

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**The ****fourth house of Hogwarts**

**Chapter one **

**Prologue **

_"I have enough!" The sorting hat growled angrily, more to himself than to the headmaster and the three teachers who were present in the circular room that was the old wizard's office._

_Well, it wouldn't have worked anyway as his voice was heard neither by Albus Dumbledore who currently was sitting at his desk in his office, nor by Minerva McGonagall, the deputy headmistress and head of Gryffindor house who was sitting across the headmaster, discussing the curricula for the new term that would start in less than a week. Not even Pomona Sprout, head of Hufflepuff noticed the hat's voice and Filius Flitwick, head of Ravenclaw looked as if he would be rather back at his brother's estate, drinking a glass of wine. _

_All the teachers had already handed in their curricula and just now the head of houses were about to hold the first staff meeting before school started in September. The first of many staff meetings in fact, and only the head of houses were present now during this very first gathering. The other teachers would attend the meetings that would be held during the next few days. Every year, it was the same._

_"What exactly are you referring to?" The old castle asked, a bit perplex. It wasn't quite like the hat to complain during a meeting in the headmaster's office._

_"Oh, come on, Hoggie." The hat growled. "Don't you feel it too?"_

_"Some of the student's gloom?" The castle answered, nearly laughing at the nickname the hat always addressed her with. "Their misery? Or the fear and pain some of them feel during the terms?"_

_"All of those!" The hat answered. "And I won't have it anymore! I have enough!"_

_"You can't do anything against it, my dear Muckout." Hogwarts frowned._

_"Can't I now?" The hat asked, smirking. "I wouldn't be so sure about that, my dear lady."_

_"Well, as it is, it has been Albus' decision."_

_"A decision lightly made, without thinking of the consequences."_

_"Well, yes, that might be, but you can't go against the headmaster's wishes."_

_"Can't I now? Are you so sure?" The hat's voice was nearly indicating a smirk and for a moment the old castle chuckled lightly. _

_Albus Dumbledore looked up and blinked in confusion, looking around the room as if searching for something before he concentrated back onto the heads of houses and the conversation they were holding._

_"No, you can't, Muckout." She then said. "He's the headmaster and one of the greatest wizards."_

_"One of the greatest meddling fools, you surely wanted to say." The hat growled._

_"Yes, maybe. But he had the ministry backing him up in this."_

_"Of course he had." The old hat shook itself. "As they are as stupid fools as Albus is one. Never looking ahead and if, then coming to the wrong conclusion."_

_Again the old castle chuckled, causing a deep humming sound silently reverberating through her corridors._

_"And what do you have in mind?" She asked. "You do not have a lot of options."_

_"I'm the one who always has to deal with the sorting while at the same time I have to deal with one house missing. And an important house too. Each year I have to sort students into houses where they don't belong to and cannot be cared for as they should be. No other house is as much needed as our missing one."_

_"Well, yes." Hogwarts answered, her voice concerned now. "But – Dumbledore had made his decision years ago and he had the minister quite in his hands back then. You know him, he always gets what he wants."_

_"Not anymore!" The hat growled darkly. "I can't do this any longer, placing students in the wrong houses just because the house they belong into is missing. You know, if Gryffindor were missing, it wouldn't be such a trouble because a brave student can go into each and every house."_

_"I know, I know, my dear Muckout." The castle tried to calm the hat. "I know what you mean, but honestly …"_

_"And if Ravenclaw would have been closed, then that wouldn't be a problem either as each house can profit of a clever student. Those children honestly would be welcomed in each other house …"_

_"Calm down, Muckout, calm down." Hogwarts sighed, sensing an outburst from the old hat. "I know that you're right, but …"_

_"And even if the house of Hufflepuff would be the one missed, well, it wouldn't be such a great deal either. Those friendly students too would be welcomed in every other house. But no … no!"_

_"Muckout!" Hogwarts called out._

_"No! It had to be Slytherin!" The hat growled darkly. "And now I have to sort it out. And now I have to deal with the lost children who are abandoned, homeless and alone. Misunderstood and even mistreated. In no other house than in Salazar's those children can be kept safe and given a home and assistance. And I won't sort them into the wrong houses anymore!"_

_"But – Salazar's house isn't available anymore." Hogwarts slowly said, knowing that somehow the hat was up to something, to something big. _

_"And you think I care? I just won't sort those children into the wrong houses anymore. I won't have it. Long years I have done so and no good will come out of it."_

_"So, what would you suggest?"_

_There were a few minutes of silence before the hat gave an answer._

_"Hm." He made. "I have thought about it since two years now. You do not accidentally know where Salazar's book is?"_

_The castle laughed silently, causing the headmaster to look around in startled surprise again._

_"Of course I know where it is." She answered. "It would be a shame if I didn't know where within myself the founders kept their belongings."_

_"Well …" The hat mused. "There had been four houses once …"_

_"And now you want to reintegrate the fourth house of Hogwarts." The castle simply stated._

_"Indeed."_

_"But – whom to give responsibility over this house?" Hogwarts asked. "We need rooms, and furniture and we need a head of house and we need … oh, it won't be as easy as you suggest."_

_"Well, I am sure the old Slytherin rooms are still there? In the dungeons?"_

_"Yes, they are, but they are abandoned now. Maybe I should ask the headmaster that he has the house elves cleaning them out and …"_

_"Oh, no …" The hat immediately growled. "I won't have you informing the old meddling coot. He would do all he can to keep things the way they are."_

_"You wish to keep this secret from the headmaster?"_

_"Of course." He hat turned to look at Albus Dumbledore who just now tried to persuade Minerva and the other two heads of houses of whatever scheme he was coming up with now. "If we wish to be successful, then we have to keep this secret from Dumbledore. And besides, honestly, he has no say in this anyway. You know the rules, Hoggie. He might be the headmaster, but he is not the one in responsibility. Responsible for the student's well-being are the heads of houses from the moment they are sorted until they graduate, you – the castle – from the moment they set foot at Hogwarts grounds until they leave, and I as I have to sort them into the houses that would be best for them. And honestly, while abandoning one house, Albus Dumbledore kept me from doing so."_

_"Hm – yes." The castle mused. "Yes, I think you are quite right. Sometimes I forget that the headmaster is not the one who has all say. Albus makes me believing and trusting him all the times and it is hard not to do as he wishes. He is not a bad person after all."_

_"I know, dear Hoggie." The hat sighed. "I know. But he is a foolish person. However, I too feel too often giving in to the old coot's meddling. Once, long years ago, he really tried to intrigue me into putting a student into a house where he wished him to be rather than where he belonged to."_

_"And you did?" Hogwarts asked._

_"Of course not. But that incident is prove enough that Dumbledore goes all length if he has to."_

_"Well, then I guess we really will have to keep this secret. But won't you think we should warn the new head of house so he or she can prepare?"_

_"No." The hat answered. "I won't have word of this spread to anyone and least accidentally to the headmaster."_

_"Well, then be it. I will prepare the castle."_

_"Ensure that the house elves are sworn to secrecy."_

_"I will. When will you announce it? And how?" _

_"At a time when we have enough witnesses and the headmaster is startled enough so he cannot back out quickly enough. The moment I announce it, the headmaster has only moments to reject and he won't dare doing this in front of the great hall."_

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To be continued**

**Next time in Tears falling in darkness**

_A new term begins with a new sorting_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be glad if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you …


	2. the sorting hat's song

**Title:**

The fourth house of Hogwarts

**Timeframe:**

Four years before Harry's first year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

An artifact was missing. A house was missing. And the sorting hat will have to sort it out. It makes its own decisions together with the castle. Will two persons within find their freedom after a long time of terror?

**Disclaimer: **

Well ... I do not own Harry Potter, Severus, or Hogwarts, nor any their friends or belongings ... J. K. Rowling owns them all ... I am just about to mess around a bit in her books ...

I will try to write legible ... and well ... I promise I will not mess around with the ink ... and I will not use her quills and inkpot either, nor her parchments … I have some of my own …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Öhm ... ok ... I have to admit ... English is not my language by birth ... so ... please do not kill me while reading ... neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing ... as there is Harry Potter being abused by his relatives …

don't like it, don't read it …

**Added note:**

Again – totally AU … as if you didn't know this already by not … *lol* …

**To all my readers thus far:**

Welcome to this story, I hope you will enjoy the reading and I do hope you will honor my work with a short review – thanks to you …

**Warning:**

Chapter contains references to child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help ... there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

What does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be ... ^.~ ... believe me - I am ...

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**Previously in the fourth house of Hogwarts**

_"And now you want to reintegrate the fourth house of Hogwarts." The castle simply stated._

_"Indeed."_

_"When will you do this? And how?" _

**The fourth house of Hogwarts**

**Chapter two **

**The sorting hat's song**

Severus Snape, Potions Professor of Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry was sitting at the head table, scowling down at the students that were sitting at the three house tables as always, wondering what kind of mischief he would have to deal with this year and he groaned inwardly. He wasn't a patient man and he surely wasn't an understanding teacher. He didn't like the students, children at all, and the students didn't like him. It was a mutual feeling.

However, whether he liked them or not – once again it was September the first, and tomorrow was the first day of the new term and he was not looking forwards to teaching the idiotic dunderheads who would annoy him during an entire year to no end. No, he really did not look forwards to this. Not to mention the fact that this year he would have to deal with the Weasley twins who – surely – would be sorted into Gryffindor. Just as all the other Weasleys had been. He already had gotten a foretaste of them during one of their monthly order meetings last year when Molly Weasley had been unable to find someone to babysit the two miscreants.

Why in Merlin's name Albus still held those meetings after the downfall of the Dark Lord – that was beyond him, really. But well, Albus would have his way anyway. He always got what he wanted. The only positive outcome was, they were able to round up more of the Death Eaters one by one and their number had diminished seriously each year that had passed by now.

With another dark glare he watched as Filch brought in the stool and the sorting hat and placed both in front of the staff table, the hat atop the stool just before the double winged door opened and Minerva led in the new first year students who stared around themselves in wonder while they followed the deputy headmistress, some of them trying desperately to keep from stumbling over their own feet while they gazed elsewhere instead of their steps.

They seemed to get smaller each year and they seemed to get more stupid each year. Not to mention more insolent and insufferable.

Minerva led the little imps towards the head table and made them forming a line in front of the three house tables and even if she had her back towards him Snape could picture her stern face that had the first years obey without hesitation.

That woman was not only a teacher who was – just like him – a stern and a strict teacher, easily controlling her students, but she also was – besides of Albus – the only teacher here, the only person at all, whom he counted as a friend. He didn't mind though, he was not a man who easily socialized in the first place and the headmaster and the deputy headmistress were enough for him. Sometimes he thought that he liked Minerva even more than Albus. The woman surely was not as half as meddling as the old coot was.

And aside from Albus Minerva was the only one who never looked down at him for being the youngest teacher within Hogwarts castle. Well, yes. He had to admit, he really was the youngest teacher. He was twenty-seven now and he had started teaching here seven years ago, when he had been twenty, only two years after he himself had graduated. Never before had any teacher started at such a young age. But honestly, that didn't automatically mean that he was incapable. He always had managed rather well. At least the students didn't fool _him_.

He was a strict teacher, one that always knew when his students were up to something and one that easily gave detention or extra essays or took house points. But honestly, the students were here to learn. And honestly, yes, he was a grumpy man, but really, what did the other teachers expect?

He had lived a live that none of them understood. He was a spy, a spy in a dangerous war, had been for long years now. He had risked his life each time he answered the Dark Lord's summoning, attended the Death Eater meetings, and he still did so. He went through pain and torture each time he did and he had to watch each step he took, each word he said, knowing that one wrong word could cost his life. And nevertheless they did not see him as one of them. Mistrust and suspicion was all they showed towards him and they despised him with the same passion he loathed them for their behavior they showed towards him.

Even if he came back from a Death Eater meeting, badly injured, the only comment he got from his colleagues was "Snape's used to it" and the only two people in the castle he could rely on were Albus and Minerva. Yet – he rarely did. Mostly he went back to his quarters to tend to his injuries by himself and alone. It was better this way anyway.

However, somehow he couldn't bring himself to really blame them, honestly.

He had done evil things in his past, and he still was an evil man, he knew it. He had been a Death Eater once, a follower of the Dark Lord, even if just for a short time. But he had been and he had tortured and killed just like them, even if he never had liked it. Yet - pain, inflicting pain and receiving pain, it wasn't anything new to him.

Sighing and gritting his teeth in frustration he forced his attention back to the sorting, threw a dark glance over the horde of first year students, easily recognizing the Weasley twins, before he watched the sorting hat.

For a few long moments nothing happened and he silently wondered if the old hat would start the sorting at all this year or if he probably was just too old meanwhile and soon would begin snoring on this damn stool, but then the sorting hat begun to move, as if it would shake its head before it finally spoke, startling the first-years that stood in front of the staff table, forming a line, waiting to be sorted into their respective houses, causing them to gasp or to jump.

_"Six years ago, a dark wizard was defeated_

_We had the peace that we so much needed_

_A decision was made, of Hogwarts within_

_Closed and abandoned was the house of Slytherin"_

Snape huffed. Yes, he remembered, and he even remembered the date when this decision had been made. It had been December the first, 1981. And already in the upcoming term on September the first 1982 Slytherin had been abandoned and all the Slytherin students had been sorted into the three remaining houses. But they had not been welcomed by their new classmates, they had been shunned by them.

_"Long years now I have watched this school_

_Have been placed every year on top of this stool_

_I gave my advice and I sorted the students away_

_But, oh, so often I had to make a mistake"_

For a moment Snape wondered where the Sorting Hat went with his song this year. He knew that each year the hat gave some sort of advice to the headmaster, to the teachers and to the students. And honestly, all those years ago, when the house of Slytherin first had been gone, it had complained about it. The had even had accused the headmaster of growing new Dark Lords.

_"Because one house was missing during the years_

_But where to place the children with fears?_

_Where to place the children who needed a home?_

_I did not really have space to roam"_

Well, yes. Snape had to admit that the damn hat was right and he remember how often supposed Slytherins had come to him, had addressed him with their problems, because they had known that he too had been a Slytherin once, that he would be able to understand and that he would try to help them, simply because they would have been meant to be in Slytherin. He remembered Slughorn who had been the house of Slytherin until it had been abandoned. Slughorn had done his job on his snakes, but nothing more.

_"Thus I now will make – on my own – a choice_

_To reintegrate in this school the poise_

_The castle already has added more rooms_

_For she too, wants to forestall a darkened doom"_

Did this mean what he thought it meant? Curiously he glanced sideways towards Minerva and Albus, and he saw that both of them looked as shocked as he felt himself. Both seemed as much at a loss as was he himself. but if it was true, if ... and did the hat just say that the castle had added more rooms? So it was not only the hat's doing but the castle's as well? And how could they ...

_"Added to this, there is one item that was lost_

_Many had been in search for this, at any cost_

_But over the centuries it has been gone_

_And now it is found, it has been done"_

Snape still did not know what exactly the hat was talking about. It did not really make sense to him. There were a few items lost. One was the Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw, but he did not know what exactly this had to do with ... Well, yes ... there was the book of Slytherin too that was missing. Since nearly three-hundred years now. He never had been one to search the castle, but he had heard of it.

_"The map of Ravenclaw, it is in tenure_

_Professor Flitwick does have it, be ensured_

_The picture of Gryffindor does stick on a wall_

_In the office of Professor McGonagall"_

Ok, he now knew it really was the book of Slytherin. He knew the map that often lay on Filius' desk. It showed Hogwarts grounds and each occupant had small footprints that were labeled with that person's name. And the picture was in Minerva's office, showing the castle itself. But he knew that Minerva was able to tap her want at the picture and that part of the castle that she tapped at zoomed in, showing its dwellers, small dots labeled with their owners name.

_"The parchment of Hufflepuff, do not scout_

_It resides in the hands of Professor Sprout_

_But one last item, since long been gone_

_It has been found, it has been done"_

Well, this one, the parchment, he only had seen once, when they had been searching a Hufflepuff student that had been missing during the night. Pomona had tipped her wand to the parchment, had given the students name and immediately the parchment had stated the whereabouts, the dangers surrounding and the medical state the student had been in. A rather useful item, Severus had thought and he honestly had wondered why Slughorn had not had such a thing.

_"The book of Slytherin has now been found_

_And now will go over to its rightful ground_

_The new head of Slytherin, in his hand_

_There in the end, today, it will land"_

The Potions Professor still wore his indifferent mask as always, but inwardly he was tense and nervous. What exactly … did the hat … it surely couldn't be ... did this really mean … the hat surely couldn't mean that he really would reintegrate Slytherin. Today. Without any planings and ... Could the hat even do that? What about the headmaster? The ministry of magic? And ... what about … there were so many questions he couldn't even grasp all of them ...

_"The house of Slytherin will be reinstalled here_

_And no contradiction in this we will hear_

_For there are children living in our world_

_And no one does give them a friendly word"_

Well ... as it seemed the hat indeed planned on doing this tonight and he sounded rather confident about it. Well, if the hat had planned this during the summer break, maybe together with the castle ... but would Albus allow it? And the ministry? Would they not interfere? Inwardly he was jeering at the prospect that his old house would be back by the end of the day, that there once again would be a house where the Slytherins could belong to.

_"The new head of house of Slytherin_

_Shall be a teacher that lived once within_

_A teacher that will be able to handle those_

_Who need a home and a safe place the most"_

Severus blinked a few times. He had not seen a new teacher. But well, of course not. The headmaster had not known that he would need a new teacher this year, at least he guessed he had not known, considering the dumbfound and shocked look on Albus' face. So he would have to search one, not an easy task as there were not many Slytherins who freely would act as a teacher. Maybe he would get Slughorn back.

_"One that is understanding but severe and stern_

_Whom to trust those with fears can learn_

_A teacher that is cunning like a snake_

_His name, simply, is Severus Snape"_

There was silence after the sorting hat's words, a silence so deep one could hear a needle hit the stony ground. No one applauded like all the years before after the hat's speech. Some faces were lined with curiosity, some were furrowed in concern, and some were blank with the lack of understanding while the room begun to magically enlarge itself.

The wall to the right side of the head table slowly moved backwards, giving away a slight scratching sound and soon a fourth table was standing in the new made space, long wooden benches on either side of it.

At the same time in front of Severus Snape a book appeared, bound in black leather, its parchments slightly yellowed but otherwise still intact, and the Potions Master who now really wore an expression of shock on his face slowly extended his left hand to take it, skimming through the pages with his right hand.

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To be continued**

**Next time in Tears falling in darkness**

_Snape learns the secrets of Salazar Slytherin's book__ – the question is … will he like them?_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be glad if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you


	3. the book of Salazar Slytherin

**Title:**

The fourth house of Hogwarts

**Timeframe:**

Four years before Harry's first year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

An artifact was missing. A house was missing. And the sorting hat will have to sort it out. It makes its own decisions together with the castle. Will two persons within find their freedom after a long time of terror?

**Disclaimer: **

Well ... I do not own Harry Potter, Severus, or Hogwarts, nor any of their friends or belongings ... J. K. Rowling owns them all ... I am just about to mess around a bit in her books ...

I will try to write legible ... and well ... I promise I will not mess around with the ink ... and I will not use her quills and inkpot either, nor her parchments … I have some of my own …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Öhm ... ok ... I have to admit ... English is not my language by birth ... so ... please do not kill me while reading ... neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing ... as there is Harry Potter being abused by his relatives …

don't like it, don't read it …

**Added note:**

I will update this story every fortnight as I cannot update each story weekly ... my main Story "tears falling in darkness" however still will be updated each week, don't worry about that ...

**Warning:**

Chapter contains references to child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help ... there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

What does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be ... ^.~ ... believe me - I am ...

* * *

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**Previously in the fourth house of Hogwarts**

_At the same time in front of Severus Snape a book appeared, bound in black leather, its parchments slightly yellowed but otherwise still intact, and the Potions Master who now really wore an expression of shock on his face slowly extended his left hand to take it, skimming through the pages with his right hand._

**The fourth house of Hogwarts**

**Chapter ****three **

**The ****book of Salazar Slytherin**

Names were written there on the pages, line for line, in an alphabetical order, quite like a list.

Snape did not read each name, just scanning through them. Most of the names he recognized immediately, others he had to shortly think over to place a face to them. They all were students here at Hogwarts like _'Flint, Marcus'_ or _'Wood, Oliver'_ and some were teachers like _'Dumbledore, Albus'_ or _'McGonagall, Minerva'_.

Reaching the name of _'Snape, Severus'_, he instinctively tapped it with his black wand and slowly the page changed.

A small picture of him appeared at the right top of the page and he lifted his left eyebrow, snorting. It wasn't a really awful picture, but he didn't like pictures of himself at all.

'_Snape, Severus'_ He read.

'_Potions Professor of Hogwarts, head of Slytherin house_

_27 years old_

_Great hall, head table_

_Tired and grumpy, but otherwise fine'_

Again he lifted his eyebrow. That definitely was interesting.

Was the book showing information of each habitant that was in the castle at the present moment? Just like Filius' map and Minerva's picture did? And Pomona's parchment? That surely was a really helpful item as he now was head of Slytherin. Somehow he still couldn't believe it, and as it seemed neither did the other teachers as they cast curious and suspicious gazes into his direction as if they couldn't believe that he – Severus Snape, dark and cold Death Eater – had become the head of a house, of any house.

He ignored the curious glances the other teachers cast towards him, bending forwards or backwards in their seats so they could have better looks at him and instead he scanned the students at the house tables for a moment. Then he tried again, skimming through the pages until he reached the letter O and then the name _'O'Dough, Marvin'_ whom he thought would fit well in Slytherin, tipping the name with his wand.

Again the page changed and a picture of the boy appeared.

'_O'Dough, Marvin_

_Ravenclaw_

_14 years old_

_Great hall, Ravenclaw table_

_Abused by his parents_

_Injured_

_Glamours detected'_

He cast another glance at the students, this time at the Ravenclaw table, and easily he found O'Dough, sitting at the bench, his head resting on his arms which he had placed at the still empty table. He would approach him later this evening.

At the same time the sorting hat begun to continue his speech, just before McGonagall could read the list with the names of the first-years.

_"When I begin to list your names_

_Then – believe me, I do not play games_

_Just get up and walk to the new table within_

_For now you are students in the house of Slytherin_

_Andrews, Gideon"_

A boy from the Ravenclaw table slowly and hesitantly got to his feet, casting an unsure glance at Snape and after a short nod from the Potions Master he walked over to the new table and seated himself at one of the two empty benches, looking quite uncomfortable while sitting there alone.

Snape quickly skimmed through the pages until he found the name _'Andrews, Gideon'_ and then tapped the name with his black wand.

'_Andrews, Gideon' He read._

_Ravenclaw_

_15 years old_

_Great hall, Ravenclaw table_

_Neglected by his parents_

_Malnourished'_

A girl – _'Berret, Alice'_ – from the Gryffindor table followed him, and then another boy from the Hufflepuff table this time.

The list went on and slowly the Slytherin table filled up with students, including _'O'Dough, Marvin'_.

Some of the teachers silently complained, especially when they lost students to Snape, to Snape of all teachers.

Snape on the other hand noticed that all the students who were called out by the sorting hat did not look at their former heads of houses for confirmation but at him, and that they immediately obeyed after they got his confirmation in form of a nod from him. And he noticed that some of those students were the same that used to come to him with their problems.

What he did not notice was the slight smile that cornered the otherwise so stern face of the deputy headmistress Minerva McGonagall while she watched the scene, the students that sought out their new head of house's confirmation, her younger colleague who skimmed through the book with each name given.

She didn't know what the book was about, but she had a fairly good idea. Most probably the book was the counterpart to the map, the picture and the parchment. Leave it to Salazar Slytherin to keep those things in a black leather bound book.

When finally the sorting hat stopped and apparently all the students were sorted into the right houses, Minerva waited a few moments more before she finally opened the scroll of parchment she was holding and began to call forth the new first-year students to be sorted into their houses.

break ... ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ ... line

Two more students thus far had been sorted into Slytherin and _'Davis, Rodger'_ had became a Ravenclaw together with _'Clearwater, Penelope'_ while _'Ervine, Emil_' had become a Hufflepuff. The sorting went on and soon the deputy headmistress called out _'Weasley, Frederic'_, causing Snape to huff, knowing what the hat would chose for the twin.

The twin took a deep breath, came towards the stool, his eyes hefted towards the hat Minerva held in her hand and he sat on the stool. The deputy headmistress placed the hat on the red haired boy and soon after the thing actually shouted – _'Slytherin'_ …

Snape kept his face perfectly indifferent while every other teacher gasped in shock, but inwardly he too was shocked to the core. How had a Weasley managed to land himself in Slytherin? Surely the boy had a good home life?

Well, yes, he knew that the Weasleys had too much children for their own good and not much money to spare. But honestly, he knew Molly and he knew Arthur Weasley. They both loved their children and neither of them would ever mistreat them, sometimes he thought that Molly even coddled them too much and Arthur was too inattentive in his children's upbringing.

So – how in Merlin's name … well, maybe he was lucky and would have to deal with just one of those two, he mused and he barely registered _'Weasley, George' _becoming a Slytherin too, but then he inwardly groaned.

One of those two miscreants – that he easily could handle – but both of them? He would have the next seven years of mischief to look forwards to.

All in all seven of the new first year students had landed themselves in Slytherin – two of them the Weasley twins.

Forty-nine students Severus Snape now counted on the Slytherin table and he groaned inwardly. He had been perfectly fine with being a simple teacher without the responsibility for a house.

He simply was no one who was suitable for this job. He was not just a simple teacher. He still was a spy, even if the war was over since nearly six years now. There were enough of the Death Eaters on the loose whom he spied on for Dumbledore. He was a dark and cold man, a tough man, not suitable for coddling children, for being responsible for their well-being.

But then – hadn't the hat mentioned that they needed someone who understood? Someone who was severe and stern, but who understood what they needed? So who would be better than him for this job? With his history, he would understand. He would not pity them and he surely would not coddle them. That was not what those children needed. But he would understand, and he could lead them, help them to go on and to continue with their lives.

Sighing in defeat he closed the book in front of him and instead begun to concentrate onto the table of the new house, of _his_ new house, he thought with – just a slight – hint of pride, just as …

With a soft _'pop'_ a boy appeared in the hall, just in front of the head table, anxiously looking around the hall while the students as well as the teachers looked startled at the boy that had just materialized out of nowhere.

Never before had a boy appeared just out of nowhere within Hogwarts, not to mention the fact that no one could apparate into the school in the first place.

The book in front of Snape opened by its own.

'_Pucey, Adrian'_ Snape read.

'_10 years old_

_Great hall, in front of the head table_

_Abused by his parents_

_Injured_

_To be sorted into Slytherin'_

Snape lifted his eyebrow, gestured the boy towards the Slytherin table. The boy, Pucey, Adrian hesitated, looking around in confusion and after a moment Snape sighed.

"Please take a seat at that table over there, Mr. Pucey." He said, his voice low but clear and the boy looked at him with startled blue eyes that showed fear and uncertainty. "I will have a talk with you and the rest of your fellow students after the welcoming feast and explain as much as possible, but for now I wish you to take a seat and eat as soon as the food arrives."

Finally the boy cast one last worried glance at him before he slowly walked over to the Slytherin table and Snape watched the ten year old until he was seated safely beside one of the first year students before he gazed back at the book in front of him, questioningly, as if the black leather bound book could give him a more appropriate answer than the one he had been given by it.

He did not really understand. Since when did Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry host children below the age of eleven? That was entirely new to him, such never had happened before. And what would he do with a child below the age of eleven? Would the boy be able to attend the first years due to his one year that he was younger?

But before he could follow this line of thought, the pages browsed by themselves and then they halted while with another _'pop' _at the same time another boy appeared in front of the head table.

'_Davis, Christopher'_ The book gave away.

'_9 years old_

_Great hall, in front of the head table_

_Without a home_

_Malnourished_

_To be sorted into Slytherin'_

Again Snape motioned for the boy to go towards the Slytherin table, giving the boy an assuring look with his dark eyes, trying to keep the surely afraid nine year old boy calm, but this time he didn't have to say something, the boy – maybe because he was used to strange situations, considering that he was without a home and maybe even lived on the street since Merlin knows how long – went over to the table he had pointed at.

Snape nodded when the boy took a seat across from Adrian Pucey while he wondered what the meaning of this was.

That was not a student just one year younger who could attend the first year classes. This boy was two years younger, he was nine years old. What to do with a nine year old child at Hogwarts? He was to be sorted into Slytherin, the book had said, but who would watch over the boy? Over the two boy's for being correct?

And again the pages began to move, stopped while at the same time another boy appeared, sitting on the ground and hugging his arm towards his body. It was _'Warrington, Constantine'_, according to the book, ten years old, abused by his father and he had his arm broken as it looked.

When it was clear that the boy would not get up by himself Snape got up with a sigh of defeat and approached the boy that quickly crept backwards, away from him and he stopped mid step. He looked at the boy for a few more moments before he simply extended his hand for the boy to take. He would not kneel at the floor in front of the entire school, never mind how much this boy might need it now. His hand for the boy to take simply had to be enough.

"You are at Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry, Mr. Warrington, and you are quite safe here." He said in a low but firm voice. "You are sorted into Slytherin and as I am your head of house, I won't harm you. Just take my hand and get up that floor so I can get you at the Slytherin table."

He would get them all looked over as soon as possible, but right now he didn't know what that damn book of his had in its mind and so he just couldn't leave right now. A simple pain reliever and healing potion would have to do until he could get them all to the hospital wing, at best one by one, to have a check over and to decide what individual potions they would need.

The boy slowly took his hand that still hovered in the air and Snape nodded while he gently pulled the boy to his feed and led him towards the Slytherin table, gently forcing him down to sit beside Adrian Pucey.

When he got back to his place at the staff table, still ignoring the curious and inquisitive gazes from the other teachers, he called for his house elf and ordered the little creature to get pain relievers and simple healing potions from his private store and to hand them out to those students he told him needed them.

Three boys and two girls later, most of them between nine and ten years old, one of those boys being eight, the book opened itself one last time, coming to a halt at a page and Snape read.

'_Potter, Harry_

_7 years old_

_Surrey, number four Privet Drive, the cupboard under the stairs_

_Abused and neglected by his relatives_

_Peril to life_

_To be retrieved as soon as possible_

_To be sorted into Slytherin'_

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_

* * *

_**To be continued**

**Next time in Tears falling in darkness**

_Snape has to settle his students for the first night_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be glad if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you


	4. the new Slytherins

**Title:**

The fourth house of Hogwarts

**Timeframe:**

Four years before Harry's first year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

An artifact was missing. A house was missing. And the sorting hat will have to sort it out. It makes its own decisions together with the castle. Will two persons within find their freedom after a long time of terror?

**Disclaimer: **

Well ... I do not own Harry Potter, Severus, or Hogwarts, nor any of their friends or belongings ... J. K. Rowling owns them all ... I am just about to mess around a bit in her books ...

I will try to write legible ... and well ... I promise I will not mess around with the ink ... and I will not use her quills and inkpot either, nor her parchments … I have some of my own …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm ... ok ... I have to admit ... English is not my language by birth ... so ... please do not kill me while reading ... neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing ... as there is Harry Potter being abused by his relatives …

don't like it, don't read it …

**Warning:**

Chapter contains references to child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help ... there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

What does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be ... ^.~ ... believe me - I am ...

* * *

break ... ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ ... line

**Previously in the fourth house of Hogwarts**

'_Peril to life_

_To be retrieved as soon as possible_

_To be sorted into Slytherin'_

**The fourth house of Hogwarts**

**Chapter four **

**The new Slytherins**

Severus Snape walked over to the Slytherin table, to his students, to the students of _his_ new house. He wasn't sure where the common room to his new house was, yet – he hoped that it would be where it had been years ago when he had attended Hogwarts and Slytherin house. At least, the Slytherin table was placed at the same spot where it had been back then.

Well, those students, neither of them knew anything concerning the house of Slytherin, and it would be his duty to teach them what it meant to be a Slytherin. Not an easy task, he suddenly recognized while he approached the older students sitting at the table. He didn't even have a prefect yet.

"Follow me." He growled to the seventh and sixth year students. "And ensure that the younger students follow you."

He waited until the older students had organized them all to march down towards the dungeons, watched them while they did so, observed the way they worked with the younger students, watched the younger students obeying the older ones and then inclined his head before he sharply turned and went down to where he believed the Slytherin common room would be.

He just hoped that the common room and the dormitories were already equipped with furniture. He wouldn't have his students sleeping on the stony ground in their first night. Were the house elves even informed of the changes? Would they attend to the fires during the night? Would the smaller children have a place to sleep too? Who would teach them? How would their parents react? And what to do with them during the holidays? During the lessons? And why had they appeared here at Hogwarts in the first place? Would he be able to handle an entire house?

So many questions and he had no answers.

Leading them down through the dungeon corridors he reached the large wooden door where the Slytherin common room had been so many years ago. The door was – once again – occupied by Gwendolyn the rescuer and he inclined his head at her. She laid the book she had been reading aside and lowered her head at him, a small smile playing on her face.

"Severus." She greeted, reminding him once again that she was one of the few occupants of guarding pictures that actually greeted the living at first instead of waiting until they were addressed. "It has been a while."

"Indeed." Severus Snape answered. "We do not have a password yet. Would you allow us entrance anyway?"

"Of course, Severus." She answered. "It is up to you to initiate a password."

"Then it will be aconite." Snape said and the wooden door swung open at once.

Snape led the students inside and he was relieved that he found the room equipped with sofas, tables, desks shelves and rugs while a fire was lit and dancing in the fireplace.

"Arrange yourselves on the sofas and the armchairs." He ordered. "I will be back in a moment. I will have a look at the dormitories."

He gave a pointed look at the older students as if to say they had to look at the younger ones and then turned and left the common room and went down a hallway to inspect the dorms.

break ... ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ ... line

When the Potions Master came back he found all the students sitting at the sofas, armchairs, chairs and benches that stood on the walls, and the common room was rather crowded. Nevertheless he was pleased.

The dormitories all held beds with nightstands and a chair each, closets and shelves and the student's trunks had already brought in by the house elves and placed at the feet of the beds. Even their uniforms had already been changed into Slytherin colors and crests. The bathrooms too were acceptable and the dormitories for the students younger than eleven were done in brighter colors and even held books and toys.

All in all, it was to his satisfaction.

The moment he reentered the common room the children and teenagers fell silent, not that they had been chatting much. It had been more a whisper here and there, he immediately noticed.

Many of the faces were scared and he sighed.

From what he had gathered from the book most of them were outcast, abandoned, neglected and some even abused. Of course they were scared, and then they had been thrown into an entire foreign situation, new to them, especially the smaller children that had been whisked away from home and found themselves in a strange environment. He would have a hard time to get those children, all of the children he now was responsible for, trusting him and inwardly he groaned.

"I am sure all of you are as startled as I am." He began his speech, standing in front of the children, his hands held behind his back, not wanting to startle them, especially not the younger ones.

"However, we have to figure out a way to make this to work. And - we - will. At first, we need prefects and I ask Jaden Austin and A'Lynn Zayden, would you accept this duty?"

He watched the two seventh year students until they unsurely nodded and then conjured the prefect badges and handed them over.

"Those badges will be used to prove your status until the headmaster has gotten the rightful ones from the ministry before the ones I gave you now vanishes as all conjured items do eventually." He explained, his voice calm and his face indifferent as always. "You are the ones who will act as mediators between the students themselves and between the students and teachers as well. I expect of you to have an eye on the students, to report any problems to me and to help all the Slytherins as well as students of other houses. I will not allow inappropriate behavior towards students of other houses and I will not tolerate disrespect against the other houses as every one of the four founders had had his or her own qualities. That goes for all of you. I expect you to behave polite and show respect for teachers and older students, never mind which houses they come from." Again the two seventh year students nodded and Snape inclined his head before he concentrated back towards the other students.

"Well, now we definitely need a structure, and thus – from the older students, I expect you to look out for the younger ones. The seventh years will help the sixth years, the sixth years will help the fifth years and so on. The first years however, as they are new to Hogwarts will not have the responsibility for the children below first year. The younger students, I expect from you to obey and follow the lead of the older ones. If you fail to follow this simple structure, you will find yourself in quite some trouble. Did I make myself clear?"

Fifty-six heads slowly nodded at him and for a moment Snape considered what to say next. He pinched the bridge of his nose. Damn, that wasn't something he was used to. It wasn't something he had expected, and honestly, he didn't know what had to be done first and what had to be done next.

"Good." He finally said. "Now, as you are sorted into the house of Salazar Slytherin, I expect nothing less than the best behavior from all of you. I expect you to make this house a proud house and to forego each predicament the other houses might have against you. And believe me, those predicaments will arise. What is the exact reason as to _why_ I expect you to stick together and to stand up to each other. I do not tolerate a Slytherin fighting one of his own house. Slytherins do not bring pain and misery over each of their own but protect their own, never mind what. You soon enough will learn that the other houses will avoid and fear you, even despise you, just because you are sorted into Slytherin. Thus it is essential that you all act as one, that you can trust each other and that you help each other. For no other one will aid you with help or understanding. Slytherins are loyal to other Slytherins but whoever of you brings shame over this house will have to answer me and I can assure you, this won't be pleasant."

Again fifty-six heads slowly nodded at him and again he sighed. Did he well in his attempt to explain to them what it meant to be a Slytherin? How exactly could he explain everything within one evening? It just was impossible.

Well, there was no other way than just trying and sighing inwardly he continued. They would learn in time.

"However, as I said, we do not bring pain upon our own and we are here to help. So, whenever one of you is in any pain or else simply unwell, then I wish to know about it so I can help. I am at least a Potions Master and should be able to do so. Should I learn that one of my students is hiding his or her pain from me, then believe me, you will not be pleased with the outcome. You all might wear your masks and hide your pain from the other students, but not from your own and surely not from me, what leads me to another rule. No lies! I do not tolerate any lies, no matter how small they might be. Be honest, always, and I can assure you, you will have my help. Lie to me, and you will not like the consequences. Any questions to that?"

This time all the fifty-six heads were shook and Snape continued.

"I do know that some of you did not have regular meals in your past, and thus it might be strange to you, but I expect every single one of you to be present on time during breakfast, lunch and dinner in the great hall. No excuses. It is important that you eat regular meals and it is important for you to gain enough sleep. Thus, curfew is at ten o'clock for the first and second year students, eleven o'clock for the third and fourth year students and twelve o'clock for the fifth and sixth year students. The seventh year students I expect to show common sense in handling bedtimes. The students below first year I expect to be in bed at nine o'clock. Everyone who disregards curfew or meals will have to answer me."

Another moment he paused, watched the students and allowed himself time to consider his next words, what would be important for them just now and what could wait. He knew they were tired, some of them injured and in need of care and he knew it would be a long night.

"Most of you – those being from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, and the first years as well as the younger students – may believe that Hogwarts is a simple secondary school." Snape finally continued in his usual low and strict voice. "However, Hogwarts is _NOT_ a primary school and surely _NOT_ even a common secondary school. Hogwarts is an academic institute and that for it is a privilege for you being allowed to visit Hogwarts. Thus I expect you to mind this privilege with outstanding respect and behaviour." Again his dark eyes darted through the room. "The younger students will ask the older ones for help in their studies should there be need, and the older students will have a watch over the younger ones to ensure no one is left behind. I expect you to keep your dormitories, your school uniforms and your school supplies presentable at every time. Study groups will be held up every evening and by the next few days a schedule will be made and handed over to you for those groups."

Well, one topic left, at least he hoped that he had forgotten nothing. Damn, never before had he had such a task and he hadn't had even time to think over what he would tell them. This was absolutely new to him.

"Apart from this I do not have office times but request you to come and speak to me whenever there are problems, any problems. As your head of house I am responsible for you and for your well being, so I expect you to address any difficulty that may occur to me. Added to this, there will be held a meeting every Saturday morning at nine o'clock in the office that is attached to the potions classroom and I expect every student to visit this meeting with me for the time being. Later on those meetings will be held for first years and seventh years only, but for now I expect any students to visit them to get a feeling for what it means to be a Slytherin. Any questions now?"

None came and fifty-six heads were shaken tiredly.

"Good. Then I guess it is time for you to go through your evening routine. I expect you to respect curfew even today." He said, knowing that his next words wouldn't be taken very well. "However, I want each one of you being checked up by Madam Pomfrey tonight and over the next few days, considering the situation you are in. You will go to bed and you will sleep until I wake you for your checkup. I personally will accompany each of you to the hospital wing to ensure that you will reach your destination."

Taking out the book he tapped it with his wand, hoping it would work for what he had in mind and muttered a few words under his breath. At once the names in there rearranged themselves and then weren't alphabetical anymore but the names of those who needed medical care the most were at the top of the list and he sighed a breath of relieve. It had worked. And that surely simplified things.

"Mr. O'Dough, if you please would follow me." He called the fourth year student over and the boy looked at him, startled, nearly afraid. "There is no reason to fear me, nor a medical checkup, Mr. O'Dough. I only will ensure that my Slytherins are well and none of them is in pain. If you will come over now, please, so we can floo to the hospital wing." He reached out his hand towards the boy and placed it onto the teenager's shoulder as soon as he was within his reach. He ignored the flinch the boy gave away and prepared himself for gaining a lot more of such reactions from his students during this night and the following few days and weeks until they trusted him.

"Mr. Austin and Miss Zayden, I expect you to explain the floo to the smaller children so they won't get startled and then organize the younger students for going to bed. Mr. Davis best will stay awake despite to his age and curfew as he will be the next one."

He simply took a handful of floo powder and threw it into the fire, calling out "infirmary" before he led the teen into the fireplace, accompanying him, not daring to leave him alone just now. The boy maybe would throw a fit as soon as he was out of the fire, trying to avoid a medical checkup and with his immediate presence there he would eliminate this possibility before it even occurred.

break ... ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ ... line

**

* * *

To be continued**

**Next time in Tears falling in darkness**

_Snape has to get his new Slytherins checked up by Poppy_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be glad if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you


	5. in the middle of the night

**Title:**

The fourth house of Hogwarts

**Timeframe:**

Four years before Harry's first year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

An artifact was missing. A house was missing. And the sorting hat will have to sort it out. It makes its own decisions together with the castle. Will two persons within find their freedom after a long time of terror?

**Disclaimer: **

Well ... I do not own Harry Potter, Severus, or Hogwarts, nor any of their friends or belongings ... J. K. Rowling owns them all ... I am just about to mess around a bit in her books ...

I will try to write legible ... and well ... I promise I will not mess around with the ink ... and I will not use her quills and inkpot either, nor her parchments … I have some of my own …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm ... ok ... I have to admit ... English is not my language by birth ... so ... please do not kill me while reading ... neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing ... as there is Harry Potter being abused by his relatives …

don't like it, don't read it …

**Warning:**

Chapter contains references to child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help ... there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

What does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be ... ^.~ ... believe me - I am ...

* * *

break ... ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ ... line

**Previously in the fourth house of Hogwarts**

_He simply took a handful of floo powder and threw it into the fire, calling out "infirmary" before he led the teen into the fireplace, accompanying him, not daring to leave him alone just now. The boy maybe would throw a fit as soon as he was out of the fire, trying to avoid a medical check up and with his immediate presence there he would eliminate this possibility before it even occurred._

**The fourth house of Hogwarts**

**Chapter five **

**In the middle of the night**

"Oh, Severus." Poppy Pomfrey greeted the Potions Master as soon as he stepped out of the fireplace. "What can I do for you?"

"Good evening, Poppy." Snape inclined his head. He was tired, yet – he knew that he would have a long night ahead of him. "I want you to have a look at Mr. O'Dough."

"Sure." Poppy drew her wand. "Sit over there on this bed please, young man, and we will see what's wrong with you."

For a moment it looked as if the teenager would protest, but then Snape increased the grip he still had on the boy's shoulder, indicating with the gesture that there would be no way out of this and the boy obeyed – reluctantly, but he obeyed.

Poppy waved her wand over the teen, casting a diagnostic spell and then looked at the Potions Master, startled, before her expression grew dark. Snape silently extended his hand, demanding the parchment the medical scan had produced, and he too growled while reading what was written there. It was nothing life threatening, but it was enough to cause a lot of pain.

"Drink this, Mr. O'Dough." He simply ordered. "It is a pain relieving potion." But the boy looked at him as if he asked him to drink poison and he growled darkly.

"Drink – it – Mr. O'Dough!" He ordered once more, his deep voice hard and commanding and his dark eyes piercing the boy. "Now!"

Well, it worked and the teen took the vial and downed its content after another fearful glance towards him.

"If you would be so kind and get off your shirt for me, Mr. O'Dough." Poppy asked the boy and again the fourth year shook his head, his eyes large with fear.

"We can do this the easy way, Mr. O'Dough." Snape simply said, drawing his own wand. "And you undress by yourself or I simply will vanish your shirt. Either way, the choice is yours."

Well, the boy didn't make any movement, just stared at him in shock and with a sigh the Potions Master waved his wand and a moment later the teen sat atop the bed with his upper body bare and bruises revealed.

"If you would be so kind to cover the bruises with the healing balm, Severus, wile I do the spells." Poppy sighed, already waving her wand and Snape simply nodded and took the required balm from the stand beside the bed.

"That would be quite necessary as I have a few more students for you to check up tonight." Severus answered silently, once again cursing under his breath.

He still had to get Potter, and soon if he could believe what the book had written. And considering the information he had gathered from the book up to now, then he definitely _could_ believe that book. And if he could trust the book, then Potter was in mortal danger. He wouldn't have much time.

But on the other hand, he knew exactly that he had to be present with his other Slytherins. Most of them would try to get out of the medical check up. The more injured they were, the more they would fight, he knew it. He would have to be present to keep their fight as minimal as possible. And he knew that he could handle it. He always had managed it with those students who had asked help from him during the past few years.

And yet – what of Potter? What if he would be too late? What if …

"A few more?" Poppy asked, casting a quick glance at him before she continued with her wand-work. "How many more are we speaking of, Severus?"

For a moment the new head of Slytherin sighed before he looked back at the medi-witch. "Fifty-nine." He then answered.

Poppy gave a startled noise and she lowered her wand to look at him in near shock.

"I beg your pardon?" She asked.

"I guess you understood quite well, Poppy." Snape answered, his voice low and calm. "Fifty-nine."

"But … but how … Severus! That has to be a joke!"

"I can assure you, Poppy, that is no joke." The Slytherin teacher growled silently. "Many of the new Slytherin students are hurt or neglected at the best and as the head of Slytherin I won't allow such to continue as it has the past few years."

"I can understand that you take your new responsibility seriously, Severus. But honestly, fifty-nine? That has to be your entire house."

"Indeed." Snape sneered at her. "I do not care if this takes us the entire night, Poppy. I wish this to be done. I will get them over to you one by one to be checked over and healed as I expect some of them to reject medical care. I ordered them to go to bed until I bring them over to you and I will be present with each student. I will bring over the worst cases at first and then I will have to leave for some time to retrieve a child fron its home before I get the rest of the Slytherins to you."

Once again he thought of Potter. The book had referred to him as being in 'Peril of life' and 'to be retrieved as soon as possible'. Yet – he hoped that nothing too serious would happen to the boy during the night. He couldn't leave those students to themselves and for a moment he wished he would be able to split himself. But well, it simply wasn't possible. not even with magic. Maybe they really could do the worst cases right now and he could get Potter later in the night, and those students who weren't as bad in a shape or who had only a few scratches tomorrow. They could approve of a good nights sleep anyway and he could retrieve Potter then.

And according to the book, they would have to deal with fourteen students right now in this case.

He didn't dare to calculate how long those fourteen students would take them to heal as even a simple case could take them longer than what was necessary. It always came down to how the children would react. Yet – he only could hope that his intimidating and demanding demeanor would be enough to convince them to show as less resistance as possible.

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It was more than six hours later and Snape was cursing silently while he hasted towards the gates, leaving Hogwarts grounds to apparate to Privet Drive where Potter lived. More than six hours, not what he had wished for. It was nearly three in the morning meanwhile and he just hoped that Potter would be fine.

Potter. Harry Potter. The son of James Potter, his childhood nemesis. And at the same time son of Lily Potter, nee Evans, his childhood friend. Year for year he had counted the years down to when Potter would attend Hogwarts, what would have been in four years from now on. And yet – here he was, four years earlier. Would anything ever be normal when it came to Potter?

The boy was supposed to attend Hogwarts with eleven years like the rest of the students. He was supposed to attend Gryffindor like his parents had done and not Slytherin. And surely the boy was not supposed to be abused to a point where his life was in danger. Would he even be in time to retrieve Potter? Or would he find the boy already dead? Had he waited too long?

How would the boy react? And how would the Dursleys react?

Remembering Petunia Dursley and her hatred where magic was involved – he guessed they would not react too fond of him standing on his doorstep in the middle of the night and he prepared himself for having a rather difficult time getting the boy out of their household. For a moment he even considered to get the boy secretly.

But then – he did not want to search the entire house for the brat. Only Merlin knew how long he would have to search then. The book had referred the cupboard under the stairs to the boy, but honestly, the boy could be everywhere.

For a moment he huffed angrily. Under the stairs, indeed. How could someone place a child in a cupboard? And for another moment he imagined Lily being placed in a cupboard. He couldn't help shivering at that thought and he tried to blend out the picture. He better didn't think about that right now. Maybe Potter junior looked enough like Potter senior so he would not have to deal with memories of Lily each time he saw the boy. Maybe he resembled James Potter enough so he would not have to think of the woman he still loved and that had been taken from him so many years ago.

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With a soft 'pop' a person appeared in Private Drive and it was just fortunate that it was two in the morning and the entire street was sleeping. Because this person was as strange as if a muggle would have appeared in the middle of the great hall.

The man was straight and tense, clad in black robes and his long hair covered his pale face, his piercing black eyes and his too large nose. The way he looked around before he stepped out of the shadows and swiftly walked down the street made clear that he was well used to dangers looming in the shadows and corners.

Reaching number four he once again looked around, sneering in disgust at the house that was just the same as was number five and number six as well as number three and number two. Even the garden looked exactly the same and the car that stood in the driveway was just like a copy from the neighbors' cars. Probably even the furniture would be the same he guessed. Those muggles were so simple-minded. They had no imagination, no sense of creativity, no inspiration. They just seemed to live like robots.

Everything was dark, not only within the street but as it seemed within the house as well. Sighing he rung the doorbell, hoping he would not have to wait too long, hoping that the Dursleys would wake up soon enough. He didn't want to stand here all night, after all. But – well, nothing happened and sighing in agitation again he rang the doorbell once more, more impatiently now.

It took a few minutes, but finally Snape could hear loud swearing and cursing from the other side of the entrance before a soft light was seen through the small window that was imbedded in the wooden door and then the door finally opened and a large, beefy and sleepy face looked at him owlishly.

"What do you want, man?" The beefy face asked gruffly. "It's in the bloody middle of the night and we have been sleeping like every normal people!"

"I can see this." Snape drawled. "Mr. Dursley, I presume?"

"Yes, and you are?" Dursley asked.

"I am Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master of Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry, and I have come to retrieve your nephew Harry James Potter who is to attend the house of Slytherin at before mentioned school. So, if you please stand aside, Mr. Dursley, and allow me entrance, then we can get this over with and you can go back to bed."

"Ah, finally." Dursley growled darkly. "Someone came to get this whelp." Dursley stood aside to let him in and Snape sneered in disgust at him. "Just hurry up so I can go back to bed. Take the whelp and then we hopefully won't see him ever again."

"You can't do that, Vernon!" Petunia who had come down the stairs and now stood behind her husband screeched in the same high pitched voice Snape remembered from the woman's younger years when she had been a girl. She had screeched at him and at Lily in the same voice back then, long years ago.

"And why not, Petunia, dear?" Vernon Dursley asked. "Won't get such an opportunity to get rid of that whelp anytime soon again, I guess. Even if it's a bit late. Should have come six years ago, this one."

"Who'll do all the work if the whelp is gone?" Petunia asked, her voice shocked and unhappy.

Vernon Dursley watched her for a moment, considering her words and growling Snape drew his wand, pointed it at Petunia who immediately draw back against the wall, her eyes growing wide with recognition.

"Maybe you yourself, Petunia." Snape growled darkly, wondering if they had not only beaten the boy but kept him as a house elf as well.

"You!" She screeched. "You!"

"Yes, Petunia, dear." Snape answered, sneering at her. "How nice to see you too, after such a long time. And now you get the boy so I can take my leave. I do not wish to stay here any longer than absolutely necessary in your … precious … residence."

"You do know this one, Petunia, dear?" Vernon asked, goggling at her like a fish.

"Regrettably, yes." The woman sneered in a manner that would have made Snape jealous if he wouldn't have known that the woman's sneer couldn't keep up with his own. "It's that Snape boy that has been living down Spinner's end. A friend of my sister's and one of _them_. What would you even want with the boy?"

"My dealings with Mr. Potter is none of your business, Petunia, dear." Snape sneered at her by himself. "And now, if you would be as kind as to unhand the boy to me so I finally can leave this – dreadfully – nice – place."

"We will do no such thing, man." Dursley growled. "You heard my wife. We need that boy and besides he is our nephew. He will stay here."

"I neither have the time to discuss this matter with you, Dursley, not do I have the wish or the patience to do so and now show me to the boy's – _room_ – if you please." Snape said, his voice dark and he pointed his wand threateningly at the beefy neck of Vernon Dursley who cringed away from him, backing into the wall behind of him.

"Well, over there, if you must." Vernon Dursley answered darkly, pointing towards a small cupboard door and again Snape growled as he noticed that the door must be leading to the 'cupboard under the stair' the book had declared the boy lived in. "The whelp isn't worth it. Take him and be off. Just make sure that we never ever see him again."

Without another word Snape turned towards the cupboard under the stairs Dursley had pointed at and he growled again darkly when he noticed the locked door. A door that was locked from the outside, a door that locked the boy in.

He didn't even bother to unlock the door by using the bolt but just pointed his wand at the door with a murmured "alohomora" to get the cupboard open and within the second he had uttered the word the bolt slid back and the door opened an inch. His face a dark mask he reached out and pulled the door open completely.

He gazed into the dark space and waited a few seconds until his eyes had adjusted to the darkness that greeted him, only dimly lit by the light that fell into the cupboard from the hallway, but when his eyes finally had gotten used to the darkness he had to grit his teeth in order to prevent a gasp as soon as they fell onto a small figure that lay huddled in the corner farthest away from the entrance. Not that there would be much space between the tiny figure and the entrance now, but it was the farthest corner nevertheless.

break ... ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ ... line

**

* * *

To be continued**

**Next time in Tears falling in darkness**

_Snape has to retrieve Harry Potter from number four Privet Drive_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be glad if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you


	6. to retrieve a student

**Title:**

The fourth house of Hogwarts

**Timeframe:**

Four years before Harry's first year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

An artifact was missing. A house was missing. And the sorting hat will have to sort it out. It makes its own decisions together with the castle. Will two persons within find their freedom after a long time of terror?

**Disclaimer: **

Well ... I do not own Harry Potter, nor Hogwarts, his friends or his belongings ... J. K. Rowling owns them all ... I am just about to mess around a bit in her books ...

I will try to write legible ... and well ... I promise I will not mess around with the ink ... and I will not use her quills and inkpot either, nor her parchments … I have some of my own …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Öhm ... ok ... I have to admit ... English is not my language by birth ... so ... please do not kill me while reading ... neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing ... as there is Harry Potter being abused by his relatives …

don't like it, don't read it …

**Warning:**

Chapter contains references to child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help ... there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

What does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be ... ^.~ ... believe me - I am ...

* * *

break ... ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ ... line

**Previously in the fourth house of Hogwarts**

_He gazed into the dark space and waited a few seconds until his eyes had adjusted to the darkness that greeted him, only dimly lit by the light that fell into the cupboard from the hallway, but when his eyes finally had gotten used to the darkness he gasped as soon as they fell onto a small figure that lay huddled in the corner farthest away from the entrance. Not that there would be much space between the tiny figure and the entrance now, but it was the farthest corner nevertheless._

**The fourth house of Hogwarts**

**Chapter six **

**To retrieve a student from home**

For a moment Severus Snape blinked in confusion at the small figure that huddled in the corner, even if his face betrayed nothing of his bewilderment. This boy never could be Harry Potter, the seven year old child from Lily. The boy couldn't be older than four or five years old! Not to mention that the boy held absolutely no resemblance to James Potter.

But then his eyes met the frightened green ones and he knew, this boy _was_ Lily's child. And as Lily had had only one child, this boy was no other one than definitely Harry Potter and he gritted his teeth in frustration. The book had been right, this child _was _starved to near death and it was high time that the boy got retrieved before he simply would vanish.

Not that he had doubted the book, it had been right with all his Slytherins thus far, but he had hoped that it wouldn't be as bad as it now seemed. So bad that the child was as small as a four or five year old skeleton. With arms that came out from the sleeves of a much too large shirt like sticks, legs that came out from much too large shorts like a pair of bones covered with a thin layer of skin, and a face that was deathly pale, alarmingly skeletal and a mask of pain and fear.

Shoulder long black hair fell in dirty strands over the pale face that was just as dirty and bruised as were the small hands that were cramped into the fabric of the shirt over a much too small and thin chest and immediately Snape's mind recognized another child, long years ago, sitting in a corner of a small room on the floor, waiting for his parents to stop fighting, waiting for his mother to come and comfort him, and this time he couldn't help but closing his eyes for a moment to will the picture away.

This child, this boy, he might be known as Harry James Potter. But he immediately knew that this boy was not Harry James Potter, he at once recognized that this boy was Harry Severus Snape. The resemblance this child had to him, Severus, was unmistakable. This child, the son of Lily Potter, nee Evans, was his son and seething in anger he had to remember himself that he had to get the boy to safety before he could take actions to punish the Dursleys for what they had done.

And even if he feared the fury and the rage he felt might cause him to explode at any moment now, he felt at ease suddenly. Lily never had truly loved Potter. Lily still had been his, Severus'. And Potter had not sired this child. This child, Harry James Potter, was his. His and Lily's.

A soft whimper coming from the boy got him out of his thoughts and Snape forced himself to concentrate back onto the task of hand. He had a hurt, weak and frightened child to get out of here and nothing else was important right now.

"Hush, child." He calmly whispered, not daring to raise his voice, and slowly he leaned forwards, deeper into the dark and small space, and extended his hands towards the boy, instinctively knowing that the boy would not come out by free will and of his own., that there was no point in even trying to get the boy out by himself.

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The boy in the cupboard meanwhile, Harry Potter, was startled and afraid, even confused, beyond reason.

He knew fear and there definitely had been more frightening situations like this. And he knew what it felt like to be startled and there definitely had been more startling situations like this one right now too. And he also knew what it was to be confused. But honestly, he never before had been as confused as he was right now.

The man that had opened his cupboard door, was a stranger, and he looked angry, but he had not grabbed him and pulled him out for a beating. He didn't know this man. He seemed strangely familiar and he was sure he had seen him before, even if he couldn't remember where or when. It definitely must have been a very long time ago. He couldn't remember ever leaving this house. And he was sure that he never before had seen this man here in his aunt and uncle's house either.

So, theoretically, he couldn't know the man, now, could he?

He just didn't understand what the man wanted here in his cupboard, or from him. And the dark and stern expression the man radiated, the harshness and the anger he could feel, made him shiver and whimper with fear. What had been a mistake, he knew, drawing attention towards himself, and then, before he knew what was happening, the boy found himself being grabbed on his shoulders in a deathly tight grip and pulled out of his cupboard by the man.

He gave another startled yelp and tried to get away from the stranger, but the dark man simply was too strong for him. As was every one for this matter, no matter how hard he tried and knowing that he would get into just the more trouble by struggling he slowly stopped his attempts.

Not that he would have had much more strength left to keep his struggle up and as soon as his feet touched the ground when the man tried to put him down, his knees buckled and he nearly dropped, only held up by the tight grip the dark stranger still had on his shoulders.

"Oh, stop this dramatic act, whelp." Uncle Vernon barked at him and he couldn't help flinching, couldn't help giving another frightened whimper away, couldn't help his trembling increasing, but again before his fear could rise into the well known panic attack he found himself being pulled aside and safely pressed against the dark man's side, felt the man's hand on the back of his head and his face being turned into the black fabric of the man's robes.

"I would keep my mouth shut if I were you, Dursley, you are in already enough trouble as it is." The strange man growled, his dark and deep voice making him shiver, and again he felt the confusion increase.

Since he could remember he had seen no one aside from uncle Vernon, aunt Petunia and Dudley. And since he could remember he had been beaten whenever they had laid their eyes on him. And now, for the first time in his life there was a strange person and for the first time in his life – well, he had not been beaten as soon as he was out of his cupboard.

_For__ now._ A small voice in his head told him. He knew better than to get his hopes up.

It was the last thing he thought before blackness covered him and he simply lost awareness of his surroundings before his body finally gave in and he lost consciousness.

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Snape was just in time to get his attention back to the boy he held against his side, shielding the small form from Dursley, to notice that the boy lost the last remnants of strength and dropped and he caught the boy before he could hit the floor, gathered the boy up and into his arms.

"You better get me a bowl of warm water and a clean cloth, woman!" He growled darkly towards Petunia, knowing that he had no chance to apparate with the child right now. The boy would not survive apparition in the state he was in right now. Neither would he survive flooing and thus Arabella's fireplace was out of question too. He would have to deal with the worst right now and here, if he liked it or not.

So, cursing under his breath, he simply carried the small form that did not only look like a four or five year old skeleton, but even felt like one, into the Dursley's living room and was just about to place the boy onto the sofa.

"Not the sofa!" Petunia's screech made him blink in confusion and he turned towards her. Surely the woman didn't think he would be able to tend to the boy's injuries and weak state in the tiny cupboard!

"The sofa is out of limits!" The woman glared at him angrily. "The whelp is …"

"Get – the – water, woman!" Snape hissed angrily, laying the small form onto the sofa, ignoring all protests from the abominable muggles. "Now!"

"You've heard my wife!" Vernon Dursley barked at him, taking a step towards him. "Just take the whelp and leave our house." He tried to round the Potions Master and to grab his nephew, to throw him out by his own, hoping that the man would follow and leave then too.

But Snape had no intention to let him near the child that was his son and the wand in his hand pointed at Vernon Dursley in a split second.

"Alligo totalus." He murmured, pointing his wand at the armchair behind Dursley and within an instant the man was fixed to the furniture, held there by robes that seemed to come from nowhere. "Silencio." He again murmured and immediately Dursley was hexed into silence, unable to get out the words he wanted and with a satisfied expression on his face Snape turned towards a shocked and shaken Petunia.

"And now you listen closely, Petunia Dear." He hissed with fury at her. "Until I deem it safe for the boy to apparate him to Hogwarts, you will have to deal with me here. Your husband will remain in his current situation during my stay here. So, the sooner you cooperate, the sooner you might have him back. And now the bowl of water and the clean cloth, woman!"

Nearly fleeing the situation Petunia Dursley turned and left the living room, and Snape turned back towards the boy that was his son, watching him close while he carefully undressed the small form. The shoulder long black hair, the boy definitely had inherited from him. It was not Potter's unruly mop of black hair, but his.

The green eyes he had inherited from Lily, even if the boy's eyes held nothing but misery, lacking the joy Lily's eyes had held six years ago. And gladly, the boy had Lily's nose as well, instead of his that was much too large and hooked after it had been broken twice during his work as a spy. Well, that was the outcome, if you worked in a job where you could not get medical care immediately whenever you needed it.

Carefully he got the boy's thin arms out of the sleeves, nearly fearing he would break them in the process, and then he lifted the shirt to pull it over the boy's head.

He hissed in blind fury at the bruised and cut skeleton that had been covered by the shirt. Yet – he should have known, considering the boy's thin limbs and his pale and bruised face.

In front of him lay a child that was nothing more than bones and skin with a much too small chest that rose and fell irregularly and weakly and with much too small shoulders. Damn, this entire child was too small for his age and for a moment frustration got the upper hand of Snape as he thought that maybe he had come too late.

The boy's pulse was there but weak and far from steady and Snape cast a quick diagnostic spell, not even waiting for the outcome but pulling vials out of his robes, uncorking them one by one and pouring them down the boy's throat one by one, massaging the delicate throat to get the boy to swallow automatically.

He didn't even sneer at Petunia as she brought the water he had demanded from her earlier, just took the bowl and the clothes from her hands and casting cleaning charms at the water and the towels, just in case that Petunia had been up to something. He didn't trust the woman, not after what she had done to this child throughout the years.

"A glass of warm water, if you please, Dursley." He ordered and with a huff the woman turned back to the kitchen.

He rolled up his sleeves, dipped the cloth into the water and then wrung it out before he started to gently clean the deathly pale face, casting warming charms and cleaning spells onto the water every few minutes, wondering when the boy last had been allowed a bath. He then covered the bruises and cuts on the boy's face with a healing balm, before casting a cleaning spell towards the boy's hair and then running his hand through them in search of head-injuries that might be hidden by them.

He noticed the silent tears that slowly were running over the small face and he knew the boy wasn't unconscious anymore and he silently cursed under his breath. He would have preferred it, had the boy been still unconscious as long as he was tending to his injuries.

He had brought nutritious potions, pain reliever, calming draughts, a healing potion and the healing balm, just in case and now he was glad about it. But he had not brought a sleeping potion, nor had he the required ingredients here to simply brew one and sighing he placed the vial with the calming draught onto the boy's lips. He better got this one into the child while he wasn't fully awake yet.

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Trying to get some of the water Petunia Dursley had brought into the child had proven itself as impossible and growling he turned towards the woman that was standing aside, waiting, and as it seemed willing to cooperate in order to get her husband back as soon as possible.

"Do you still have a baby bottle left, Petunia?" He silently asked, his anger currently overrun by his worry.

"Of course not." The woman answered in a clipped tone. "My Dudders is a large boy and this one never had one."

Taking a deep breath to keep his temper under control he simply transfigured the glass of water into a baby bottle filled with water, hoping he did it the right way as he never had held such an item in his hands. He only could hope that the boy still had his sucking reflex. The swallowing reflex would set in automatically, he knew.

Placing the bottle onto his son's lips he silently prayed that it would work.

Well, it didn't, the boy didn't open them, didn't accept the bottle, just lay there, eyes still closed, only half awake and for a moment he wondered if the calming draught he had given him had been too strong. The boy was much too thin and small and maybe his body simply was too weak to deal with all the potions he meanwhile had in his system.

"You're doing it the wrong way." Petunia Dursley stated just the moment when his frustration threatened to take the upper hand. What was there to do the wrong way? Bottle in, holding it there and good was!

"Oh, for heaven's sake, give it here, Snape!" The woman shook her head, snatching the bottle from him and for a moment the Potions Master was about to seethe angrily at her before reason took over. If Petunia got the boy to drink, then be it, at least he would have time to tend to the boy's other injuries then.

"Men!" Petunia Dursley shook her head.

"If you hadn't starved and beaten this child into this mass, then it wouldn't be necessary!" Snape growled angrily at her, even if silently so he wouldn't frighten his half conscious son.

He continued to clean the cuts and bruises on the boy's front, to cover them with the healing balm, seething every now and then in blind fury and rage, whenever he noticed some that were deeper than he liked.

"I never knew Vernon hurt him _that_ badly." The silent voice of the woman that actually had gotten his son to drink got Severus out of his anger and he cast a quick glance at her before he simply continued with covering the injuries.

"Even if I believed you, Petunia, then you still have allowed him to beat a child in the first place." He finally answered a few minutes later, one of the thin arms in his hand, carefully cleaning it, afraid that he might break the fragile limb.

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The sun outside was about to rise when he finally was finished with all the boy's injuries and he closed the jar with the healing balm that was empty anyway. Most of the healing balm he had used on the boy's back and he had been furious beyond reason, nearly hexing both Dursleys into oblivion after turning the boy.

Running his hand over his face tiredly, he shivered as he remembered the moment he had turned his son. He wasn't a man who easily got shocked, he had seen too many things in his life for being shocked easily. But he had been shocked at the sight that moment and he had not been able to suppress a low groan. He had not been able to move for long moments, too shocked to do anything besides of staring at the small back that was covered with bloody welts and bruises, before he finally had come back to life.

Covering those injuries had actually caused his hands to tremble while he tried to ignore the small whimpers his son gave away every now and then, knowing that it simply had to be done, and knowing that the boy had not been really awake, but not really unconscious either. He had been talking to the boy to keep him as calm as possible, had placed a gentle hand on the boy's back to give a bit of comfort, knowing that his hand cooled the heated skin of the infected back, hoping that the boy would recognize the contact as a comforting one instead of a threatening one.

And now he had done everything that could have done and he only could wait, sitting beside his son, knowing that he could do nothing more at the moment and hoping that the boy would survive and gain at least enough strength that he could apparate with him in a few hours.

break ... ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ ... line

**

* * *

To be continued**

**Next time in Tears falling in darkness**

_Will Harry survive the day? And what will happen with Snape's Slytherins while the Potions Master is at Privet Drive?_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be glad if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you


	7. at the Dursleys'

**Title:**

The fourth house of Hogwarts

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Four years before Harry's first year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

An artifact was missing. A house was missing. And the sorting hat will have to sort it out. It makes its own decisions together with the castle. Will two persons within find their freedom after a long time of terror?

**Disclaimer: **

Well ... I do not own Harry Potter, nor Hogwarts, his friends or his belongings ... J. K. Rowling owns them all ... I am just about to mess around a bit in her books ...

I will try to write legible ... and well ... I promise I will not mess around with the ink ... and I will not use her quills and inkpot either, nor her parchments … I have some of my own …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Öhm ... ok ... I have to admit ... English is not my language by birth ... so ... please do not kill me while reading ... neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing ... as there is Harry Potter being abused by his relatives …

don't like it, don't read it …

**Warning:**

Chapter contains references to child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help ... there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

What does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be ... ^.~ ... believe me - I am ...

* * *

break ... ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ ... line

**Previously in the fourth house of Hogwarts**

_He had placed a gentle hand on the boy's back to give a bit of comfort, knowing that his hand cooled the heated skin of the infected back, hoping that the boy would recognize the contact as a comforting one instead of a threatening one.__ And now he had done everything that could have done and he only could wait, sitting beside his son, knowing that he could do nothing more at the moment and hoping that the boy would survive and gain at least enough strength that he could apparate with him in a few hours._

**The fourth house of Hogwarts**

**Chapter seven **

**At number four**

The last thing he clearly remembered had been uncle Vernon's bark at him to stop his dramatic act and he hadn't been able to keep from silently whimpering in fear, from flinching away from his uncle's angry voice. He never had been able to keep himself from giving away signs of his fear, even if he knew that his aunt and uncle hated it.

But then the dark man had pulled him out of the way, his free hand on the back of his head, pressing him against the man's side, his face into the strange, black robes to hide him, to shield him, using the warm and soft palm of his hand as if comforting him and this simple and much too strange act had caused him to finally break. His hands had seemed to move by their own, gripping the black fabric in his fists and with another whimper he had fallen into blackness.

Later he had been awake sometimes, feeling pain and fear and horror, but each time he had thought he would drawn in his pain and in his fear, in his horror, he heard a deep and low voice murmuring comforting things he didn't understand to him, felt a cool hand on his back that startled him, that frightened him, but that calmed and comforted him at the same time, that had taken the pain away, even if only slightly and even if only for a moment.

Every now and then he had fallen back into the darkness, not feeling anything and he had welcomed each time this had happened, not able to withhold a slight whimper whenever he had woken from this blackness, not wanting to feel, not wanting to go back there, but wanting to stay in the darkness.

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As Severus paced back in forth in the Dursley's sitting room, he could feel his anger rising again.

Not that it had far to go in the beginning. He had been short tempered all night, even to his own admittance. He should be looking after his Slytherins. He should be brewing more healing potions. He should be writing a syllabus for the younger student's classes. He should – at the minimum – be writing a list of things he needed to acquire for the boy that apparently had nothing as he soon had learned during the night. And yet, he was not. Not to mention that he was at the end of his tether with the child that still lay on the sofa, still at death's doorstep, and the reason as to why only made him further livid.

After he had been sitting beside the boy for a while throughout the early morning hours, not able to do anything more than just sitting there and keeping an eye at the child, still not daring to take him for apparition or flooing, his gaze had fallen towards the door and into the hallway, had fallen towards the door of the cupboard he had gotten his son out of only hours ago. And not able to sit there for one single moment longer he had gotten up, throwing a warning look at Petunia, daring her to do anything to the boy while he was not present in the room.

**Flashback**

_He crouched down in front of the small cupboard that just was large enough to __– 'house' – a child that was as small as Harry was, to allow him to sleep in there without moving too much. But soon the boy would have outgrown this dreadful dark and stifling space that must have frightened him as much as this blasted muggle of an uncle had._

_Reaching out his hand he took the __small, dirty blanket that lay crumpled in a heap on the thin and worn out baby mattress and turned the fabric in his hand. The fabric was as thin and as tattered as was the small mattress itself and he recognized it as the baby blanket he had given Lily upon Harry's birth. He had given it to her because they still had been something akin to friends after he had called her a mudblood back at the end of fifth year._

_They never again had been as close after that as they had been before this blasted day, but they still had been something like friends. She had not completely abandoned him. And as her son had been born, never mind the fact that Potter had sired the boy, he had visited her, had given her the blanket, thinking that a child never could have enough blankets to cuddle with and to curl up with. It definitely had been better than bringing a stuffed teddy bear or a romper with teddy bears in bright baby colors on it which she surely had had more than enough by then. _

_Gritting his teeth he let his gaze wander through the cupboard, easily noticing that there was nothing in it that belonged to the child aside from the old baby mattress and the old baby blanket. The shelves were stuffed with bottles of cleaning agents, cleaning supplies, clothes, sponges and buckets. _

_Lifting the old mattress to see if the boy maybe had hidden a toy or two underneath he seethed in anger when his eyes fell on dark spots that definitely were dried blood and he turned the thin thing to have a closer look. The underside of the mattress was stained with those dots of dried blood and as it seemed the boy had turned it at some point. _

_Well, he had known that the boy had been left in this cupboard, bleeding and injured, so he really shouldn't be shocked about it now. But still it brought his blood boiling and he gritted his teeth once more before leaving the small space and sealing the area. One never knew when an evidence was needed. Neither Petunia nor Vernon Dursley would be able to open the cupboard._

**End flashback**

He had gone back to sit beside the small boy he only hours ago had learned was his son and he was so close to losing again, and right now he was pacing the Dursley's sitting room, his fury rising with each minute while he was unable to do anything, while he was unable to get the boy out of here.

How could they!

How could any human being!

How could anyone treat a child like that!

Heavy footsteps running down the stairs got him out of his thoughts and turning towards the door he saw a whale of a boy entering the room, gazing curiously at him.

"Who's that?" The boy asked and Severus' anger flared to its heights again. Didn't they taught their son some manners?

Keeping his hands behind his back and forcing himself to keep the thought in mind that this boy was not at fault for his parents' deeds, he glanced down and lifted his eyebrow at the obese boy.

"Did your elders not teach you proper manners, Mr. Dursley, or are you simply not able to follow the ground rules of decency?" He hissed at the boy whose gaze went from curious to startled.

"Leave my son alone, Snape!" Petunia growled and with a quick movement he turned towards the woman.

"You – better keep your mouth shut at the moment, Petunia." He growled back, his voice clearly showing the barely concealed fury he felt. "As you have not managed to teach your son some manners and respect and seeing as your husband is not able to do so too, I will not have you telling me what to do and what not to do."

Turning back to the obese boy that still stood in the doorway, shocked out of his wits as it seemed, he gave the boy a sneer that he was known for at Hogwarts.

"Upon entering a room in the morning you greet the occupants with a 'good morning instead of a question." He said, not really minding that his words soon would be forgotten anyway. He would prefer bringing Harry finally out of here instead of teaching this obese boy who had been spoiled rotten some manners. But at least it would get his mind off the dread of his son dying for a moment as he couldn't do anything right now anyway aside from waiting.

At least it was clear that this boy had not been neglected and mistreated. Aside from being neglected of healthy food as this boy seemed twice as large and twice as old as Harry was. But the Potions Master knew that this boy was about the same age as was Harry. Lily had told him that her sister had given birth to a boy while she herself had been still pregnant.

But honestly, what had they been feeding the boy? Growling darkly he turned away, turned back to his son, not caring anymore. As it seemed they had fed the boy everything that they had denied his son. What was it to him if this one had manners or not? This one was not his dealing, Harry was, and he only could hope that his son would be out of the woods soon so he could apparate him to Hogwarts.

As he was a Potions Master, he automatically was a healer of course. One could not become a Potions Master, dealing with poisonous potions or potions ingredients or brewing healing potions without becoming a healer at the same time. The ministry as well as the guild was rather strict when it came to this.

So, yes – generally spoken he knew what he did and he knew how to handle the boy's injuries as well as the boy's state. But he wanted a second opinion and Poppy's opinion would be very welcomed. Harry's – his son's state was just too severe. The boy still lingered somewhere near death's doorstep, even after a night of healing and rest and he still was not up to apparition.

He had informed his two new prefects upon his absence during the night and he had sent a patronus earlier to them to inform them that he didn't know when exactly he would be back. He also had sent a patronus to Albus and had asked the headmaster to help his prefects without interfering if possible, should the need arise.

So, spoken in general, he had his back free. And nevertheless he wanted to finally go back to Hogwarts with his son. He had to get the boy to Poppy and he had a house to run. He knew perfectly well what responsibility lay on his hands, and nevertheless he couldn't leave his son alone here to apparate back to Hogwarts alone. Only Merlin knew what the Dursleys would do to him during his absence. So he had to wait until the boy was up for the journey.

"What's it with the freak?" The youngest Dursley's voice got him out of his thoughts and he neatly seethed in anger again. But the boy's next words nearly made his blood boiling. "Why hasn't he made breakfast now? I'm hungry."

"I beg your pardon?" Snape asked, turning back to the boy. "What did you just say?"

The youngest Dursley blinked at him in near shock, apparently not used to such anger directed towards him, while Petunia Dursley took a step towards her son.

"I told you to leave him alone, Snape!" She said.

"And I told you to better keep your mouth shut, woman. As it is you are in already enough trouble." He growled darkly, his eyes narrowed in anger. "Now, what was it you said? Speak up, boy!"

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Dudley Dursley blinked in near shock and he was afraid.

Boy!

That was what his father always called the freak. No one ever had called him boy. But this one did, and this one was really strange too. This man radiated coldness and darkness and … and … and danger. And somehow he knew that he wouldn't be able to fool this man as he was able to fool his parents.

He didn't understand why this stranger was angry, and he surely didn't understand why he was angry at him. No one ever was angry at him. At the freak, yes. His aunt and uncle often were angry at the freak, but no one ever was angry at him. But this man definitely was and he didn't understand. He had done nothing.

And he didn't understand why this man was here in the first place. He didn't look like a colleague from his father's work. Not to mention that his father was strangely silent and motionless sitting in the armchair. But his mother seemed to know this man, what was strange too as his mother normally had not guests aside from the neighboring women, and surely not so early in the morning. They only came over sometimes for tea in the afternoon hours.

But most importantly, this man seemed to be really angry and he didn't know why.

Taking a step towards the sofa where the freak laid he peered into the other boy's face. The freak was fast asleep, what was just as strange as everything else. The freak never was asleep. The freak was meant to make his breakfast and to clean his room and the kitchen and to cook. Maybe the freak was ill? And maybe this man was some kind of a freak-doctor? Because he knew that a freak wasn't meant to go to a normal doctor. Mum had said so. And dad had said so too.

"What is it with him?" He asked, somehow sensing that something was really wrong.

"It is of no concern what it is with your cousin." The dark stranger said, his voice still angry and he looked up at the pale face of the man. "I have asked you a question and I want to have an answer, boy."

"I only have asked what was wrong with him and why he hadn't made breakfast yet." He said. "He always makes breakfast before I get up." He added, explaining what he meant. Maybe the man had not known this, maybe the man did not know what a servant was for. Maybe the man didn't have a servant. "But what is a cousin?"

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Severus stood there, baffled for a moment.

What did the boy mean with what a cousin was? Didn't he know his own family? Didn't he know that Harry was his cousin? Had those damn muggles not taught him anything? And what did the boy mean, Harry always made breakfast before he got up? Had those damn muggles had his son working as a servant too? Aside from starving and beating the boy to near death?

"What exactly do you mean with, he always makes breakfast before you get up?" He asked, gazing down at the boy with his dark eyes along his nose.

"Well, that's what a servant does, isn't it?" The boy asked and he looked at him with a questioning gaze that clearly showed he didn't understand.

Narrowing his eyes onto the boy he gestured him to sit into one of the armchairs while he himself seated himself onto the living room table.

"You go into the kitchen, dear." Petunia Dursley told her son, about to whisk the boy out of the room, but Severus lifted his hand and watched her darkly for a moment. Petunia clearly didn't want him to talk to her son and somehow he knew that she was trying to hide something from him, she didn't want his son speaking with him.

"_You _- will go to the kitchen, dear Petunia, and make breakfast for this son of yours." He said, his voice slow and dark. "And you, young man, sit!" He added, pointing to the armchair. He would have a word with this child and he would find out what exactly Petunia was trying to hide. He wanted answers and he would get them.

"Now, Petunia!" He growled darkly when the woman hesitated.

He watched the woman slowly leaving, casting an unsure gaze at first towards her husband and then towards her son before doing so, but then she had left. He watched the boy for a moment longer, noticing the questioning gazes he threw towards his mother, towards his father, towards Harry and finally at him.

"What do you mean with 'servant'?" He then asked.

"Well, a servant." The boy said, blinking in lack of understanding. "It's someone who serves you. Who's cooking for you and doing your laundry, who's cleaning up your room. Don't you have a servant?"

Severus began to understand that the boy wasn't trying to be rude or to annoy him, but that he just didn't understand and he pinched the bridge of his nose. This boy wasn't like the eleven year old first years he was teaching at Hogwarts. This boy was a seven year old child. And of course he acted like a seven year old child. And most likely he never had learned anything else than this. He had been growing up with Harry being his servant just as Draco had been growing up with Dobby being his servant. He just didn't know better, even if the thought of his son being used as a servant made his blood boiling again. But it was not this boy's fault but his parents.

"Your cousin is no servant." He finally said, trying to keep his fury at bay as good as possible. "Your cousin is the son of your mother's sister who is dead, what had been the reason as to why he has been living with you."

"But what is it with him?" The boy asked, his head lowered to one side while he watched Harry curiously. Not with the malice Petunia hat watched Harry, but with only curiosity.

"Harry – simply spoken, is very ill."

"Who's Harry?" The boy asked and once again Severus nearly seethed in fury. His son had been living in this household for five or six years now and this boy still didn't know what his name was? Freak, that it had been what he had called him. A servant, that it was what he was seeing in him. He closed his eyes and curled his hands into fists for a moment and again he had to remind himself that the Dursleys' son wasn't the one to blame.

"This – is Harry." He said, pointing at his son. "You called him a freak, why?"

"Well, mum and dad call him that." The boy answered.

"What is your name?" Snape asked.

"Dudley." The boy said.

"Well, Dudley." Snape again pinched the bridge of his nose. Maybe not all was lost with this boy. "Would you appreciate it, if I called you – freak?"

Furrowing his eyes the boy watched him questioningly.

"Appreciate?" He asked.

"Would you welcome it, if I called you freak?" Snape sighed. "Would you be glad if I called you freak?"

"Uhm … no." The boy shook his head.

"Well, then you shouldn't do so with your cousin." Snape explained, wondering where in Merlin's name he took the patience right now and with this child. "He is no servant. He is your cousin, a family member, and he is a child as are you one. He should have been treated as such. He should have been playing with you instead of working like a slave."

"Playing with me?" The impossible boy asked startled and Severus again nearly seethed. But then the boy smiled. "I would have liked that. And I tried to. But mum and dad never 'llowed. They say that he was a freak and that I'm not 'llowed to play with him."

Soft moaning from the couch made both, Snape and Dudley look over to Harry and immediately the Potions Master was on his feet and beside his son.

"Go to the kitchen and have your breakfast, boy." He told the Dursleys' son while he gave his attention to his son completely, noticing only at the corner of his awareness that the Dursley boy did so, but only reluctantly, casting another questioningly gaze at him and Harry, a gaze that said he still didn't understand, a gaze that nearly was worried.

"He'll be alright?" He heard Dudley Dursley ask, the boy now standing in the doorway, his head lowered to one side in a curious way and his eyes watching him. It were those eyes that finally made him realize that Dudley Dursley really would have liked to play with Harry, with his son, that made him realize that Dudley Dursley only had believed what he had learned to believe from his parents and that Dudley Dursley truly worried about – the freak.

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**

* * *

To be continued**

**Next time in Tears falling in darkness**

_Will Severus be able to get his son to Hogwarts anytime soon__? And what had been happening with his Slytherins while he had been at Privet Drive?_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter ... thank you


	8. Godfather Death

**Title:**

The fourth house of Hogwarts

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Four years before Harry's first year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

An artifact was missing. A house was missing. And the sorting hat will have to sort it out. It makes its own decisions together with the castle. Will two persons within find their freedom after a long time of terror?

**Disclaimer: **

Well ... I do not own Harry Potter, nor Hogwarts, his friends or his belongings ... J. K. Rowling owns them all ... I am just about to mess around a bit in her books ...

I will try to write legible ... and well ... I promise I will not mess around with the ink ... and I will not use her quills and inkpot either, nor her parchments … I have some of my own …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Öhm ... ok ... I have to admit ... English is not my language by birth ... so ... please do not kill me while reading ... neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing ... as there is Harry Potter being abused by his relatives …

don't like it, don't read it …

**Warning:**

Chapter contains references to child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help ... there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

What does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be ... ^.~ ... believe me - I am ...

* * *

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**Previously in the fourth house of Hogwarts**

_"He'll be alright?" He heard Dudley Dursley ask, the boy now standing in the doorway, his head lowered to one side in a curious way and his eyes watching him. It were those eyes that finally made him realize that Dudley Dursley really would have liked to play with Harry, with his son, that made him realize that Dudley Dursley only had believed what he had learned to believe from his parents and that Dudley Dursley truly worried about – the freak._

**The fourth house of Hogwarts**

**Chapter eight **

**Back to Hogwarts**

"Are you feeling better, Harry?" Severus Snape asked, knowing that his question was a stupid one. Of course his son might feel slightly better, but by the amount of injuries he'd had sustained from the Dursley's he really doubted that he would notice the difference. His son was a seven year old child, and a seven year old child that was in pain didn't make out differences in the improvement. A seven year old child that was in pain – was simply that, in pain.

But he wanted to know what kind of answer Harry would give him, if he would feel comfortable enough with him to tell him the truth, or if he would deny being in pain at all.

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Harry slowly turned his head and looked over towards the strange man, but he was too frightened to move and he slowly nodded his head before averting his eyes again. There was no need for him to make the man angry, even if the man had not beaten him. Yet. But he surely would do so if he made him angry.

He really wanted to know who this man who refused to hurt him was. Maybe his uncle finally had managed it to beat him to death like he always had promised? Or maybe aunt Petunia had finally managed to starve him to death like she always had promised? Maybe he simply was dead and this man was here to get him into hell? Because the man was so dark and so serious, with long black hair and a pale face, and so dangerous looking, it simply couldn't be an angel and so he simply couldn't be from heaven. And besides of this, there was no way he would end up in heaven anyway. Aunt Petunia and uncle Vernon always had said that he would end up in hell.

So, maybe this man was Godfather Death itself to get him down into hell.

He gulped nervously. He didn't want to go there. Aunt Petunia always had said that it was the worst place ever, that the dead had to suffer there even after death. That they were to be burning into the fires forever. He shuddered at the thought and he nearly couldn't breath at the thought.

"Hush, child." He heard the man's deep voice and his always present trembling increased, he could feel it. Godfather Death actually addressed him, and that meant that he actually was here for _him _and for no one else. But why was he sounding so kind? And so comforting? So calming? He didn't really understand. Wasn't Godfather Death supposed to be harsh and grim?

"There is no need to fear me, Harry." Godfather Death continued and for a moment he wondered whom the man meant. But then – he would have shrugged if he wouldn't have been in so much pain. It didn't matter. It was of no importance.

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The Potions Master had the distinct feeling that Harry wanted to ask something before he seemed to surrender the thought and to give in and he wondered what it was.

Was it the question as to why there would be no need to fear him? Was it the question as to who he were? Or as to what had happened? The boy surely must have thousands of questions.

_'What is a cousin?' _The youngest Dursley's question came back to his mind and he narrowed his eyes at his son.

The Dursleys had not taught their own son that Harry was his cousin. Maybe they had not taught Harry that Harry was … that Harry was Harry's name.

"Harry." He repeated the name, watching the boy close. "That is your name. _You _are Harry."

The boy cast another quick glance at him before averting his eyes once again.

"And you are allowed to ask questions, Harry."

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Harry was his name? He was harry? And how could this man know his name? But then - well, if he were Godfather Death, then of course he would know his name. He _had_ to know his name so he wouldn't take the wrong boy with him. He never would forgive himself if another boy would have had to die because of him, because Godfather Death would not know that it was him that was meant to die, that it was not him he was supposed to take with him.

"You are quite safe with me, Harry." Godfather Death said and he tried to nod, but he didn't know if the dark man recognized it as a nod as he was just too tired to do more than a slight movement. He knew that he was safe with the man because he was Godfather Death. Godfather Death would not harm him, because Godfather Death only would lead him to where he would have to go. It was the place he would lead him to he was afraid of.

Again he shuddered at the thought of the hell and the fires in there that would await him.

"I will not harm you, I am your father." The man said.

He wanted to ask how Godfather death could be his father, but he really didn't dare to. He had learned from an early age that he wasn't supposed to ask questions. Asking questions only led to beatings and to pain. So no, he better did not ask this question. Even if he didn't understand, but well, he would find out soon enough, he supposed.

Maybe it was just like with God who was everyone's father, so maybe he, Godfather Death was everyone's father too. The father of every dead people. So he actually was dead? He had thought that maybe he just was about to die. But if he thought it through, then it seemed as if he actually was already dead. And it made sense too, if Godfather Death was here to get him.

For a moment he was sad at the thought that he simply had died, just so. And that he had died in such a way. But then he nodded. It was better this way anyway. Even if he would have to burn in the fires of hell forever. He was sure that it would hurt like hell. He had been burned while cooking more than once and it always had hurt like hell. And he had been burned by the Dursleys too more than once. And that too had hurt like hell. But he had deserved it. It had been a punishment for his freakishness and because he was disobedient and insufferable, whatever that meant. But well, at least he maybe would be loved there, even if it might be really, really painful. But maybe he would be wanted there, would be loved there.

Again he shuddered at the thought.

"Hush, child." He heard Godfather Death again and he smiled. If he was dead, then he could ask questions. The man had said so earlier, hadn't he?

"You will take me away?" He asked, looking at the man whose dark eyes were as black as coals and who watched him so intensely he could feel the gaze within his very soul.

"Yes." Godfather Death answered, his voice serious and dark and deep, just like anyone would imagine his voice would sound. "I will take you away from here, and you will be perfectly safe with me. There will be no need to fear me."

"Will it hurt?" He asked, daring to ask another question and he could hear the fear in his own voice. But well, he guessed that everyone would be afraid and that Godfather Death would be used to it.

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"Will it hurt?"

Snape didn't know how to answer this question. He was used to being in pain, and he was used to be around people who were in pain. He was used to pain in general, never mind in what form it came along or whom it concerned. He even was used to tell some of his students who had been abused at home and who had searched out his help that yes, it would hurt.

But how to do so to a child so small? How to do so to a seven year old child? How to do so to a seven year old child that already was in enough pain and fear? He was at a complete loss here. He didn't know what to do, what to say, and how to handle the situation. This child, his son, this child needed reassurance and not the harsh words that his words of truth would be. But at the same time he knew that he wouldn't do any good if he lied to the child, to his son.

The boy's question if he would take him away had sounded so hopefully that he nearly had had to swallow. But this question wasn't much better. Harry seemed to know that it indeed _would_ hurt and the boy only searched for a bit of comfort, for reassuring words, for anything that would ease his fears of further pain.

"I do not wish to frighten you, Harry." He finally began, his voice serious and low, placing his hand gently over the boy's nervously fidgeting ones to still their frightened movements. "But I do not wish to lie to you either. So, yes – the journey to Hogwarts will hurt. But it only will hurt for a moment and then we will be there. I will apparate with you to the school and there I will be able to help you better than I am to do right here. But I promise I will get you away from this place here and I promise that you will be perfectly safe with me. I will not harm you and I will try to help you."

"School?" The boy asked confused, blinking at him nearly shocked while the fear that still was clearly visible in his eyes and in his features deepened.

"Yes, school, Harry." He said, trying to explain his son what he thought he wanted to know. Maybe he would be able to ease his son's fears a bit by explaining to him what would await him there so he could get himself prepared. "Hogwarts is a school of witchcraft and wizardry, a boarding school where the students are living throughout the school year and I am a teacher on this school. I will take you with me to Hogwarts and there I will be able to help you more appropriately than here. You will be safe there, no one will harm you there, that I can promise you."

"A teacher?" The boy asked, his voice getting smaller and more and more afraid and he wondered why.

"Yes." He said, narrowing his eyes at the boy, trying to find out what was frightening the child.

"Then … then you …" The boy now whispered. "Then you are … then you are not … not Godfather Death?"

Severus Snape blinked in near shock at the child, unable to form just one single word in that moment, even unable to form just one single thought in that moment.

Harry actually and truthfully had thought that he would be the reaper man? And that he had come to take him?

'_You will take me away?'_ The question had sounded so hopeful and now knowing the meaning behind the question, it made Snape nearly seethe in anger. It made his stomach churn and it made his chest clench painfully. Harry knew by himself how close to death he was. This seven year old child knew that he might die and he even welcomed the thought. What horrendous things must have happened in this wretched household here so the boy would welcome death with a smile in his eyes?

"No. I am not Godfather Death, child." He said, his voice strangely rough and he had to swallow a lump that had formed in his throat. "I am your father. I will take you away from here, yes, but you will not die. I will do whatever lies in my power to keep you not only alive but safe too. I will do whatever it will take to make you feel better. Do you understand, Harry?"

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Harry didn't understand.

He would not die? But that meant, that all the pain and all the fears and all the misery would continue. That meant that he still wasn't free and that he still … he … but … closing his eyes he actually had to suppress his tears at the thought. The man surely wouldn't want him to cry. The Dursleys always got mad at him if he did. And surely this man would too.

But why wasn't he allowed to die yet? Hadn't he been so miserable for long enough now?

But well, who was he to question all those things? He had learned a long time ago that it wouldn't help him to question his fate. He simply would have to take it. So he nodded, miserably, not able to keep the sadness out of his nod and he looked away.

"I'm sorry I asked questions, sir." He tiredly whispered. "I won't do so again, I promise."

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Closing his eyes for a moment to keep himself calm Snape took a deep breath. He didn't want to frighten the boy with his temper that right now treated to take the upper hand of him.

To admit pain was an instinctive thing to do for a child. To ask questions was an instinctive thing to do for a child too. And to welcome death surely was _not_ an instinctive thing to do. So, those idiotic monsters that were the human beings his son had as an aunt and uncle actually had beaten all the instinctive things out of him while they had taught him things no child should know about.

"I already told you, you are allowed to ask questions, Harry." He said, opening his eyes. "You are not going to die if I can avoid it and your life will not continue as it had been up tp this moment as you might fear right now. I will take you to Hogwarts where you will learn what it is meant to be a young wizard and you will be perfectly safe there. As you will be with me."

A quick glance from the boy towards his uncle that was still sitting in the armchair, unmoving and silent, told him enough. He had known that the Dursleys hadn't informed the boy about his magical inheritance.

Of course they hadn't. Petunia Dursley, nee Evans, rather would die than to use the word magic or to admit that her sister had been a witch in the first place.

"I have known your mother since she had been as old as you are now, Harry." He said while lifting his wand and running a few diagnostic spells. "It has been me who had told her about magic in the first place, who had told her that magic indeed existed and that she had been a witch. At first she had not believed me, but with the time she had seen that I had told her the truth as she had begun to do magic by her own, accidental magic. And as it seems, it is again my task to tell someone, to tell you, her son, and my son, that you indeed are a wizard."

The diagnostic spells he had cast at the boy showed that Harry still was only a small step away from being taken away by – he huffed – _'Godfather death'_ indeed, but that he had a chance to survive apparition. The boy had regained some strength, the blood replenisher had done its work, as had done the healing potion. He was still not out of the woods, but at least he didn't linger in death's doorway anymore. He would be able to get his son out of here without causing his son to die.

"It is time to get you out of this – place." He finally said. "I will lift you now, so don't be startled."

"I don't want to be a burden, sir." The boy finally managed to say something in his so small voice he nearly didn't hear him. "I'm just a freak, nothing more and you don't have to bother with me."

Severus gave the boy a dark look, before he gently took hold of his son's chin and slowly lifted Harry's head, making the child look at him. "Listen to me, Harry." He said, barely able to conceal his anger. "You are not a burden to anyone, and you are not a freak either. You are my son and I indeed do have every intention to – bother with you – as you so eloquently put it. You are a small wizard, and the only thing you are supposed to do is learning what you are taught at school and doing your homework, which your teachers assign you." He said while running his hand underneath the boy's shoulder blades and gently lifting the child's upper body a bit.

"Drink this potion, Harry." He sighed. "It will help you healing and it will help to make you feel better a bit." He held the vial at the boy's lips and dipped the small glass container until the child was drinking its content. He put the stopper back in place and then simply pocketed the empty vial before he ran his other hand underneath the child's knees and then carried Harry out of the Dursleys' living room, along the corridor in the hall and then out of the house and up the driveway, towards the apparition point.

He didn't even bother with talking to the Dursleys once more before leaving, he would come back later the moment his son was safe, the moment he had ensured that his son would survive. And he didn't even bother to get new clothes for Harry. There hadn't been any in the cupboard that had been the child's room and the clothes that whale of a boy called Dudley Dursley owned surely would be miles too large for the small boy he held in his arms. He would get him new clothes the moment he was back at Hogwarts.

Casting one last look down towards the child in his arms, shifting the small form carefully and slightly in his arms so he had him secured for apparition, he vanished with a soft 'pop'.

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**

* * *

To be continued**

**Next time in The fourth house of Hogwarts**

_Will Harry be alright after the apparition__? And what will Severus find upon his return to Hogwarts?_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter ... thank you


	9. back to Hogwarts

**Title:**

The fourth house of Hogwarts

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Four years before Harry's first year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

An artifact was missing. A house was missing. And the sorting hat will have to sort it out. It makes its own decisions together with the castle. Will two persons within find their freedom after a long time of terror?

**Disclaimer: **

Well ... I do not own Harry Potter, nor Hogwarts, his friends or his belongings ... J. K. Rowling owns them all ... I am just about to mess around a bit in her books ...

I will try to write legible ... and well ... I promise I will not mess around with the ink ... and I will not use her quills and inkpot either, nor her parchments … I have some of my own …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Öhm ... ok ... I have to admit ... English is not my language by birth ... so ... please do not kill me while reading ... neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing ... as there is Harry Potter being abused by his relatives … don't like it, don't read it …

As there surely are readers that do not read all of my stories I will mention it here too:

First of all, I say thank you to all those who sent me get well wishes and I only can hope that you will be understanding - I cannot update right now as often as you are used to, but I will do my best to update at all and as soon as my wrist is healed enough so I can use my left hand again, I of course will be back to faster updates ... I hope you won't skin me until then ...

**Warning:**

Chapter contains references to child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help ... there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

What does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be ... ^.~ ... believe me - I am ...

* * *

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**Previously in the fourth house of Hogwarts**

_There hadn't been any in the cupboard that had been the child's room and the clothes that whale of a boy called Dudley Dursley surely would be miles too large for the small boy he held in his arms. He would get him new clothes the moment he was back at Hogwarts._

_Casting one last look down towards the child in his arms, shifting the small form carefully and slightly in his arms so he had him secured for apparition, he vanished with a soft 'pop'._

**The fourth house of Hogwarts**

**Chapter nine **

**Back to Hogwarts**

There was no struggling and there was no staggering the moment Severus Snape reappeared in front of the large gates of Hogwarts. He appeared and stood tall and proud, something not every wizard managed. But then – he was not for nothing not only a member of the order but a spy to the Dark Lord too. Dark and cold as he was known by the students and his colleagues the Potions Master right now looked down at the small child he held in his arms, his gaze not cold but warm and his gaze not its normal angry glare but worried, dark eyes examining a pale face.

"Harry?" A soft but deep voice asked, a voice that matched the man's appearance. But he got no answer as the boy in his arms did not react, his green eyes closed and the small form limp in the Potions Master's arms.

Well, he should have known that the boy would take apparition not too well. Most adult wizards did not take it too well. They surely were used to it but there rarely was one who actually liked the sensation and Snape knew a lot who always needed a moment afterwards to compose him- or herself.

And there was no young wizard who got not dizzy and actually ill after apparating or side-along apparating for the first time. So of course Harry, a small and very ill and injured child, had passed out in his arms.

Shifting the boy in his arms so he had one hand free he checked his son's – again he nearly hitched a breath at the thought that he had a son, at the thought that this small bundle in his arms was his son – vitals before he rearranged his own cloak around himself so the dark and heavy fabric covered the small form in his arms too before he quickly marched through the gates and towards the castle that was Hogwarts.

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"I take it everything has gone as well as it could go?" Snape asked Jaden Austin after entering the Slytherin common room an hour later. He had settled Harry into a bed in the infirmary for Poppy to have a second look at the boy and to apply a medical file for his son. He also did not wish to have the boy alone right now while he had a look at his new Slytherins.

Only Merlin knew how the boy would react if awakening alone in the castle, a strange place to him.

"Yes, sir." Jaden Austin answered, getting him out of his thoughts. "Everyone has settled in as good as possible. The younger children are a bit scared, but we got them occupied with a few wizarding toys. Their common room luckily is equipped with such. Madam Pomfrey has been over twice to look after them and even Professor McGonagall had been here to help."

Snape lifted his eyebrow at the young Prefect at these words but he said nothing to that, only nodded.

"Well done, Mr. Austin." He then said. "That makes ten points for Slytherin. Please ensure that everyone will be prepared for lessons tomorrow. I will have a look at the younger children and after that I have an appointment in the infirmary. By tomorrow morning I will have worked out a schedule for private meetings with each and every student in my house during the next week. If something happens, and that goes for the rest of your time as a Slytherin prefect, then a knock at my office door will inform me of your presence and I will be there as soon as possible."

"Of course, sir." The boy answered and Snape gave a curt nod before he cast a gaze over several of the students. Some of them that had been injured were still in the infirmary. Poppy had kept them there after he had asked her doing so before he had left for Privet Drive, ensuring that they were well watched over during his absence. And now his gaze wandered over those he had sent back to their common room after a visit in the infirmary the day before. They all seemed to be well and they all seemed to be calm. He could see curious faces, unsure faces and fearful faces, but none of them seemed to be panicky.

With another curt nod towards his prefect Snape turned and strode towards the door that led to the children's common room that was separated from the student's one.

There was no password needed as this room was only accessible through the regular Slytherin common room and so Snape silently opened the door without muttering a password and without knocking at the door either. He stood for a moment in the doorway, watching the children and again he felt so out of place that for a moment he didn't know what to do.

These children looked so small and fragile. Not as small and fragile as Harry, not as starved as his son, but small and fragile nonetheless. They looked fearful and they looked confused. But they looked better than they had during the welcome feast. He immediately could separate them into two groups, the abused children that were more afraid and unsure and the homeless children that not only looked more calm but nearly relieved.

Of course they did, he huffed for a moment. They had a roof over their heads, a bed to sleep in and at least three meals a day.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen." He said, keeping his voice low but nevertheless most of the children flinched when turning towards him and slowly he walked towards one of the armchairs, sitting down and waving the children over to sit onto the other armchairs and the large sofa.

They all did, slowly and hesitantly, and he noticed that there was barely one whose feet reached the floor after they sat down.

"I do know that I promised you to explain things to you after the welcoming feast yesterday evening, but there simply had been too much injured students to do so." He began, watching the small faces in front of him. "I guess you do know by now that you are here at Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry, a wizarding school, as everyone of you is a young witch or wizard."

He waited for a moment for protests or questions as to how such could be but no such questions came and the children only nodded their heads at him silently. So the other students or Poppy and Minerva had already explained their new circumstances to the children and he was glad for that, he had to admit.

"All of you are here because the situation you have been in was – let me say, less than acceptable." He said. "You have been abused by your caretakers or you have been homeless, caring for yourselves. This will stop here and now. Hogwarts is your new home and as the castle has taken matters in her own hands to bring you here, I am sure she has ensured that none of you will have to go back to your families or to the streets during the holidays."

He waved his wand and a pot of tea he had ordered earlier from the kitchens, a plate of sandwiches and nine cups and plates appeared at the table in the midst of the seating arrangement. None of them flinched at the magic displayed and so he knew that they already seemed to be used to magic by now. He poured the tea into the cups and pointed at them, indicating that the children should take a cup each.

"As Hogwarts normally does not house students below the age of eleven, we will have to work out a schedule for your education. Which of you have attended primary school before?"

A few of them looked at each other before they raised their hands hesitantly and ne noticed that even two of the homeless children were amongst them. The only two not lifting their hands were Val Taylor and Virgil Willoughby and Snape nodded.

"Good." He said. "Do you know how to read and to write, Val and Virgil?"

Both boys shook their heads, just as he had expected. He had wondered if he could get the Messrs Willoughby and Warrington to attend the first year's classes. They were only one year younger after all. But Willoughby wouldn't be able if he was unable to read and write and he did not wish to send Warrington to attend the first years alone. He should keep those younger students together as long as possible. They would need each other.

"We will remedy this little problem as soon as possible." He said with a small sigh. "To teach you this little skill you will meet me here on saturday mornings for lessons and I will apply the seventh year students for daily exercises. You will meet with them here every evening to …"

"Why would we have to learn that shit?" Virgil, the ten year old and thus the oldest from the homeless children asked with a scowl on his small face. "It won't help us in …"

"It won't help you in steeling food to keep you alive out there, Mr. Willoughby, yes." Snape interrupted, his voice slightly raised and his dark eyes piercing the ten year old. Yet – he was not angry. He could understand the boy's behavior. He was ten years old and yet he had been out in the streets for long enough so he never had learned how to read or to write.

In other words for at least three years.

"And nevertheless you will learn it here." He said. "You have learned what you _had_ to learn to keep you alive and I will accept that, but you are here now and you will have to learn new things here. Hogwarts is a school and this castle provides you with a home. With a room to live in, with a bed to sleep in and with food at least three times a day. Every day. There won't be need for you to fight for food anymore or for a place to sleep in and there won't be need for you to fight for your survival anymore. This will be your home and the only thing we, the teachers, expect of you, is to do your best in learning."

"But we won't need it!" Virgil shook his head and from the look on his face it was clear that he really did not understand. "I've never needed it. Isn't important. Won't keep me alive."

Sighing Snape got to his feet and walked over to a sideboard that stood at one wall before he reached into his robes and pulled a vial out of his pocket. He poured the content onto a plate and then tapped his wand at it, transfigured the liquid into a piece of cake. Waving his wand at the plate a small sign appeared which he placed beside the cake and then he turned back and walked over to the children, sat back down into the armchair he had been sitting in before.

With a warning gaze towards the others who _could_ read he reached the cake over to Virgil.

"Your argumentation earned you a piece of cake, Mr. Willoughby." He simply said, watching the boy taking the cake. He hoped the boy would eat it at once.

Children who had lived at the street, who had to fight for food each day would take everything they got without questioning. They would pocket an apple or bread for later when they were safe and alone, but as a cake could not be pocketed easily without creating a mess, they would eat it at once. At least he hoped so.

The boy surely would not have started to eat if he had kept standing close to him, but as he had been sitting down, back into the armchair, he watched the boy staring at him in confusion before he shrugged his shoulders and simply started to eat. Yes, Snape thought, you eat what you got.

He watched the boy eating, wolfing the cake down, while he watched the other children who cast nervous glances at their fellow student and at him, but he simply waited. For a moment he actually wondered why none of them warned the other boy, but then – he had given them his most warning glare and he knew that most first years were reduced into a shaking mess by this particular glare. Well, and aside from Virgil Willoughby none of them was brave enough to not do as he told them. And hopefully every one of them would learn something from this little scene.

"How do you feel, Mr. Willoughby?" He asked after the boy had placed the plate back at the table.

"Uhm … fine." The boy answered after blinking at him in confusion again for a moment.

"Hmm, yes." Snape leaned back with a smirk on his face, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "You might feel fine, Mr. Willoughby, for now at least. But I would go to visit the infirmary soon, if I were you. I am sure you won't have to open every door within Hogwarts on your search, because there is a small sign with the word _infirmary _written oin attached to the door."

He watched the boy blinking in confusion at him before his words seemed to sink in and he took the sign that had been placed beside the cake on the plate and then looked back at him, questioningly and slightly paling.

"Yes, Mr. Willoughby." He then said, his voice still calm, as calm as his dark eyes. "I am sure you would not have eaten this particular piece of cake, if you had read the sign first."

"What …" The boy asked, paling further.

"Poison." Snape answered. "A simple written word, but a written word that might safe your life one day, Mr. Willoughby."

He watched the boy going from pale to white faced, head shaking and eyes wide while his little hands went into small fists pressed over his stomach. The shocked disbelieve was clearly written over the pale face and in the anxious eyes.

"But …" The boy stammered and Snape got up, sighing, sitting onto the edge of the table in front of the ten year old.

"Easy, Virgil." He said before the boy could fall into a panic attack, running his fingers momentarily through the boy's brown and rather messy hair. "Calm down. Of course I would not poison my own students. Some obnoxious Gryffindors maybe one day, but surely not my own Slytherins. You are perfectly fine aside from the fact that you now know that the inability of reading such a simple word as poison one day might cause you to die. Do you see my point?"

Unable to voice his thoughts the boy simply nodded and Snape accepted it as it was.

"Good." The Potions Master said, watching the boy for a few moments longer before he got up and sat back into his armchair. "I am sure that you will make an effort in learning the task of reading and writing. It won't be easy, but I can promise you that you will be able to learn it and I can promise you that it will help you in your future life. As I was saying, you will meet with one of the seventh year students here every evening at eight o'clock for this undertaking. I will teach you in person once or twice a week, but you will be doing homework and exercises with the seventh year students daily."

He waited for a nod from Virgil and Val before he continued.

"That goes for each of you as I am sure few of you have been writing with ink and quill before. Aside from that, I will be here for you to teach you in math. Other subjects might be added with time so that you are prepared properly the moment you will attend this school's first class next year or the year after. A timetable will be made as soon as possible and I expect all of you to attend your assignments. I do not care if you deem the subjects necessary or not. You will attend them never mind your own opinion. Did I make myself clear?"

Eight heads nodded at him and with some satisfaction he noticed that Virgil not only had regained some color but looked determined as well. The boy had understood what he had wanted to teach him.

"Aside from that, Hogwarts is parted into four houses and I am the head of Slytherin house, your house. So I expect you to address me with whatever problem ails you. Never mind if you really feel unwell due to being ill, having eaten something you are not used to, being unable to sleep or simply feel unwell due to a restless mind. I am here for not only the regular students in my house but for you as well, remember that, all of you."

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He had talked to those children a bit longer, knowing that they needed his attention right now more than they would later in time. They would settle into the castle's routine soon, but until then he knew he had to be there for them more than for the older and regular students. He had explained to them that they were allowed to leave their common room but that he did not wish them to roam the entire castle aside from visiting the great hall, the Quidditch pitch during matches and for physical exercises. Not now at least. He would show them to the yards later on, the moment they were used to be here at Hogwarts at all and the moment the other students were used to having younger children here at Hogwarts. He surely wasn't ready to risk anything while allowing them to roam the castle and the grounds right now.

"Miss Berret." He called one of his seventh year girls over.

The girl approached him slowly, her gaze warily and he easily could make out the hesitance in her steps, causing him to grit his teeth while he kept his hands stiffly behind his back. He remembered last evening's happenings in the infirmary too clearly, the girl watching Poppy's hands panicky to a point where she clearly didn't catch anything that had been said. He even had been close to snap at the matron to finally keep her hands still in the girl's presence, but at the same time he had known that such an action only would frighten the girl any further.

A school with four houses and fifty or sixty students per house – by the rule of the thumb – and he had to get all of the difficult students into his house. He suppressed the urge to sigh and run his hand over his face. The girl that right now stood in front of him, still watching him warily, only would be startled. They all would need time to get used to him and his ways, but until then he simply would have to keep his movements under more control than he normally would.

"The younger children need education in reading and writing, Miss Berret." He said, his tone of voice even and calm. "Mr. Willoughby and Mr. Taylor are not able to read or write at all and Mr. Talon, seeing as he is only eight years old, surely is no master in those skills as well. I will teach them once or twice a week and give them homework, but I ask of you and your fellow seventh years to overtake the task in overlooking their daily exercises. I am sure you will be able to work out a system so each seventh year student will overtake one evening after dinner during the week. A double period will suffice."

The girl nodded at him with a hesitant "yes, sir" and he gave her a curt nod in reply before he turned and sat into one of the armchairs in the common room, taking out a book and starting to read while watching them for a while. Some of the students watched him curiously for a moment or two, casting questioning and unsure gazes at him from time to time, but he continued reading and casting his eyes over them every now and then. They would learn.

He would sit here for an hour every evening and they would learn that they could approach him, that they could address him whenever he sat here. And they would learn that they could address him with whatever caused them trouble or problems. This way he would give them the chance to address him without the need to gather their courage and search for him. Because he was there. He was there for them.

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**

* * *

To be continued**

**Next time in ****The fourth house of Hogwarts**

_Will they all understand and settle in__? And how will the other professors react?_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would be glad if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you


	10. firsties, twins and a room

**Title:**

The fourth house of Hogwarts

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Four years before Harry's first year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

An artifact was missing. A house was missing. And the sorting hat will have to sort it out. It makes its own decisions together with the castle. Will two persons within find their freedom after a long time of terror?

**Disclaimer: **

Well ... I do not own Harry Potter, nor Hogwarts, his friends or his belongings ... J. K. Rowling owns them all ... I am just about to mess around a bit in her books ...

I will try to write legible ... and well ... I promise I will not mess around with the ink ... and I will not use her quills and inkpot either, nor her parchments … I have some of my own …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm ... ok ... I have to admit ... English is not my language by birth ... so ... please do not kill me while reading ... neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing ... as there is Harry Potter being abused by his relatives …

don't like it, don't read it …

**Warning:**

Chapter contains references to child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help ... there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

What does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be ... ^.~ ... believe me - I am ...

* * *

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**Previously in the fourth house of Hogwarts**

_There hadn't been any in the cupboard that had been the child's room and the clothes that whale of a boy called Dudley Dursley surely would be miles too large for the small boy he held in his arms. He would get him new clothes the moment he was back at Hogwarts._

_Casting one last look down towards the child in his arms, shifting the small form carefully and slightly in his arms so he had him secured for apparition, he vanished with a soft 'pop'._

**The fourth house of Hogwarts**

**Chapter ten **

**Potions, twins and a room**

"I would be careful, if I were you, Alison." Corbin growled, pinning the Slytherin first year against the wall. "Wandering along the upper corridors. You belong into the dungeons and you should stay there if you wish to survive the next seven years here at Hogwarts."

The terrified first year struggled to get free from the fourth year's grasp on his collar, without success of course as he was much smaller as the Gryffindor that had him pinned at the stony wall, not to mention that he didn't really know what to do in this situation, not to mention that he didn't really understand why he wouldn't be allowed in the upper corridors. His sister was in Ravenclaw after all and he only wanted to visit her. Despite the fact that they were in two different houses, they still were quite close. And the older girl had visited him down in the dungeons last time and had invited him into the Ravenclaw tower.

So Mark Alison just struggled in vain.

"Maybe you should be careful too, Corbin …" Came another voice, from their left.

"Attacking an evil and surely dangerous Slytherin …" Another voice joined the first one and Mark Alison breathed a sigh of relief when he noticed the Weasley twins coming along the stony hallway.

"You should keep your fingers off our housemates …" The first one of the twins, he couldn't tell them apart yet, continued.

"If you wish to avoid our wrath for as long as we are here." The second one finished finally and Corbin released him, turned towards the other two first years.

"Is this an attempt to threaten me, Weasley?" The fourth year asked, nearly laughing.

"No, Corbin …" One of them answered.

"We never would threaten anyone …"

"That simply was a promise …"

"And we tend to keep our promises."

"And what would you do to keep me from hexing your fellow Slytherins, Weasley?"

"Oh, I'm not sure … what do you think Fred?"

"Oh, I'm not sure either … but maybe we could change his hair, George?"

Two wands were raised at the fourth year Gryffindor and two "inficio capillus" were shouted at the same time.

Mark was grasped by one of the twins hands and quickly they ran down the hallway and into the corridor that led towards the dungeons, leaving a very irritated fourth year Gryffindor with Slytherin-green hair and shouting angrily after them.

"That was close, thank you." Mark gasped the moment they reached the safety of the dungeon corridor.

"Don't mention it." One of the twins said.

"Not for this." The other one added.

"I was suspicious 'bout you first … you know … with you being Weasleys and so …"

"And you thought we wouldn't stuck to our housemates because the rest of us Weasleys are Gryffindors." The twins said in unison.

"Don't worry, Mark."

"The hat surely …"

"Knew what he did …"

"And honestly, being in Slytherin …"

"We finally can use all that cunning ideas …"

"That are in our minds …"

Mark Alison looked from smirking twin to smirking twin, still not seeing any signs he could use to tell them apart, but frankly – he didn't mind. He guessed he just had gained himself two new friends.

"Come along, Mark." One of them finally grasped his arm.

"We've potions next." The other one said, taking his other arm and together they lifted him off the floor.

"And I just have a wicked idea …"

"So, if you're interested …"

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Heaving a sigh he strolled along the corridor that led to his classroom and schooling his face into his usual indifferent mask, the Potions Master throw open the door to the room the Gryffindor and Slytherin first years waited for him, satisfied as most of their heads turned towards him startled.

It was such a good thing to startle the little snots into wetting themselves, he thought.

The Slytherin side held curious faces that looked up at him with calm eyes while the Gryffindor side held pale faces that looked up at him startled and frightened.

"As there will be no foolish wand waving in this classroom," he started his usual speech for the first years after turning sharply on his heels to face them. "there hardly will be many of you who believe this subject might be – magic. Those however, who are able to see the subtle science and the delicate art that is potions making, I can teach brewing healing potions, stirring killing draughts and even bottling concoctions that would keep you between. As I however am sure that most of you are nothing more than the usual silly idiots I have to teach, I am sure that none of you will be able to grasp what I will try to teach you. That for all I can do – is to assure you that each of you who will try any stunts in this class, who will disturb my lessons or who finds himself unable to pay attention – will leave this classroom without a second warning."

His gaze went over the students, resting on each set of eyes before turning again and waving his wand at the black board. Again he turned back to the class.

"The list of ingredients is on the board." He said. "The prescription itself you will find in your potions book on page fourteen chapter two. Begin."

He watched the students throughout their brewing, slowly walking through the classroom and gazing into cauldrons here and there, correcting a stir every now and then.

Most of the Gryffindors showed a pitiable attempt in their work and he sneered at them, giving away scathing remarks, while some of the Slytherins – especially the Weasley twins – as startling as this discovery was – proved that there actually was potential. He didn't give away a comment on that however.

He wasn't even sure what he should say in the first place. They were Weasleys, for heaven's sake, and aside from the fact that he still did not know how the both of them had managed to land themselves in his house, he still was not entirely sure how he should handle the situation itself. Being the head of a house. Being the head of a new installed house no less. And not to mention – being a head of a house like Slytherin.

Slytherin wasn't a common house after all, and he knew it, had been a student in this house by himself.

Slytherin was the most complicated house. Shunned by all other houses, feared by most of the other students – and even some teachers. And the children attending this house simply were alone, scared, insecure and mostly left without dignity, trying to keep their masks in place, masks that showed their last remnants of said dignity, of strength and bravery. But it was only that – a mask.

And here he was. Severus Snape, Potions Master, head of Slytherin, former Death Eater to the Dark Lord and now spy to Dumbledore. And he was the one who had to collect all those shattered pieces that had broken off his Slytherins throughout the years and to place them all back to where they belonged to. A task that seemed nearly impossible.

A tingling sensation got him out of his thoughts and informed him that their time was up and he got off his desk.

"Your time is up." He growled darkly. "Bottle your samples and bring them over to the desk. Clean up after yourself and then get out of my classroom. Three feet of the potion you just have brewed, its ingredients, how it is brewed and its use throughout the ages to be handed in next Friday morning."

He glanced at the vials the students placed at his desk one by one while they cleaned up their workstations and he frowned while he reached at the vials of the twins that had handed in two slightly different potions.

One of the small glass containers was labeled with the words _'cleaning solution, Fred Weasley'_ while the other was labeled with the words _'dyeing solution, George Weasley'_ and his frown deepened.

"Misters Weasley, stay after class." He quietly said.

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The classroom was empty barely ten minutes later especially for two identical individuals with red hair and freckles on their faces. Both twins stood there calmly, their eyes expectantly resting on him and a small grin over their faces. Well, it definitely was a difference from the normally miserable faces of the frightened and abused children he had standing in front of him and even if he never would admit it, he enjoyed the feeling it caused.

"Bother to explain this, Mr. Weasley?" He asked, holding up the vial with the – well, 'dyeing solution' – George Weasley had handed in.

"Well, you see, Professor …" One of them answered, probably the one that was George Weasley.

"If you have a cleaning solution …" The other one continued.

"Then you need something to reverse it again." The first one finished.

"And what exactly did you intend this solution to do, as the cleaning solution would clean skin and not hair?" Snape asked with a raised eyebrow.

"It does not dye hair, Professor …" One of them asked.

"But skin only …" The other one continued.

"Into a satisfyingly Slytherin-green." The first one finished.

"We of course could have made the solution to simply get the skin dirty again …" The first one started over their annoyingly way of talking again.

"But where would be the fun in that, sir?" The second one continued and he went his gaze back to the first one, his eyebrow raised curiously, waiting for a further comment from this one.

"No further comment this time, Mr. Weasley?" He asked. "I wondered if you were able to speak in other patterns than in duad ones."

"Of course we can, sir …" The first one said.

"We can do tripple ones …" The second continued.

"And we even can do groups of four …" The first one threw in.

"Or more if we so wish …" The second one went on.

"What would be however a bit …" The first one mentioned.

"Irritating with time, so …"

"Stop!" Snape growled calmly, glaring at both of them. "First – Mr. and Mr. Weasley, I would appreciate it, if the one of you who started a sentence would also finish it, as this habit of yours indeed is _very_ irritating with time."

"Of course, sir." Both twins said in unison.

"Second." The Potions Master continued. "As much as I appreciate your attempt to invent a new potion, I would be grateful if you simply would finish the task I set to you and should I notice that the cleaning solution I set you today is not to my expectations, then you both will receive not only zero marks but detention too. If I however discover that the cleaning solution is brewed correctly and your – dyeing solution – has some potential, then both of you will receive an outstanding."

"Deal!" Both twins again said in unison, nodding their heads.

"There is however another matter, Misters Weasley, I wished to address." He said, glaring at both twins. "I couldn't help noticing that Mr. Corbin had green hair when I met him earlier in a corridor. _Slytherin-green_ hair, to be precise. And as the two of you seem to have a liability for – dyeing something – I cannot help wondering if this might have something to do with the two of you."

"It has indeed." One of them said.

"And your excuse for that is what?" He asked. His black eyes going from one twin to the other, trying to detect something that would help him to tell them apart, but finding none.

"He attacked Mark Alison." The other twin stated matter-of-factly.

"I see." Snape said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "And you think hexing a fellow student will help the situation?"

"No, but he threatened him and forbade him to leave the dungeons corridors." The first twin explained. "He is in fourth year and Mark in first and he frightened him. And the hex will …" The boy gazed at his brother who looked at a clock he pulled out of his pocket and then nodded at him. "… have ended by now anyway."

Sighing Snape shook his head.

"I do appreciate your attempt to be of help to your classmates and I also do appreciate your attempt to follow the Slytherin rules and to stand up for each other." He finally said. "And between the three of us, you have done well. Five points to Slytherin each for you standing up against a fourth year student to help one of your fellow Slytherins. But nevertheless you will receive detention for using a dyeing hex in the corridors. Eight o'clock sharp tonight, and bring your wands. I am sure I can find something that will keep the two of you occupied to your satisfaction."

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Leading his son from the infirmary to his private quarters had been a difficult and tiring task.

Not only was he not used to have such a small child walking beside him, but also was the boy not only small with short legs but still ill, malnourished and exhausted. So he soon had considered to simply carry the child through the corridors – what would have destroyed his reputation completely.

So he merely settled onto a slower pace so the boy would be able to walk beside him, sneering at some Hufflepuffs that crossed their way soon after they had left the infirmary behind and that whispered comments like "how cute" and "isn't this sweet" to each other.

He wasn't cute and surely he wasn't sweet! They could be glad that he had to get the boy to his quarters without having him dropping or they would find themselves in detention! Cute! Sweet!

Shuddering he went into the corridor that led towards the dungeons of the castle. No, he surely would not carry a seven year old boy that looked as if being four or five years old, never mind how thin or how exhausted said boy was. The exercise probably would be good for the child. He would not carry him!

He had however allowed the small hand to sneak around his fore and middle finger, the small fingers of the child not able to hold his entire hand that seemed so much larger than the boy's.

He gazed down at the child that had been silently walking beside him, and noticing that the boy was ready to drop for sure now, he sighed and led him towards the door that would lead to his room. He would talk to him later, explaining his quarters and his rules. This could wait until the child had had a nap.

"This will be your room, Harry." He said, opening the door that led to the nursery the castle had installed into his quarters earlier that day while he had been gone teaching and he had to admit that the castle had chosen well. The room was installed wall to wall to his own bedroom with a door that led from the boy's room to his own while at the same time there was a window in the room that showed sunshine outside. It wasn't a window actually, but rather an enchanted one that would allow natural light inside and that would show the weather outside. It couldn't be opened actually, but it would allow fresh air into the room nevertheless.

He had expected the boy to enter and to have a look around, to jump onto the bed and to pull out the few toys that were placed on a shelf, however they had gotten there, and to make a mess out of the room within two minutes. But all that happened was the boy standing rooted to the spot and with a nearly frightened expression on his face, not entering the room, and he lifted his eyebrow.

"You may have a look around and take one toy before you go to bed where I expect you to take a nap for an hour or two until dinner is served." He added, not used to such a silent and calm behavior from a child.

But still the child did not respond and just stood there, stock still and with large and startled eyes, gazing into the room before finally lifting the small face to look up at him and again he lifted his eyebrow.

Harry was nervous. He knew well that he wasn't meant to look at other people, that it was forbidden, but nevertheless he looked up quickly. He just _had _to gaze at the man that had said he was his father for a moment, just to read the man's expression.

He just had to know so he would know what would be to come.

But he couldn't read the man's facial expression at all. There was nothing. The man's face was a blank mask and the black eyes that watched him were as emotionless as were the pale face. Even the man's stance was not giving anything away at all.

He always had been able to detect the anger and the hate in his uncle's face, or the loathing and the disgust in his aunt's face, and he always had been able to – somehow at least – tell what would come. But not with this man. The man was impossible to read. He seemed only cold and dark and hard and rigid and severe and …

Biting his lips he quickly looked back down towards his trainers. Better not trying anything with this man. He was as large as was uncle Vernon, if not larger. He was not as heavy as was uncle Vernon, was much thinner, but he nevertheless was sure that this man would be as strong as uncle Vernon, if not stronger and surely he was much, much quicker.

But then – this man had gotten him out of his aunt and uncle's house. And he had said he wouldn't harm him. And he had said that he was his father.

But again – did this mean anything? Uncle Vernon was his uncle after all, was family, and he had not loved him, had hated him.

But then again – uncle Vernon had loved Dudley, and Dudley was his son. So maybe if this man was his father, then he would love him too? Or at least wouldn't hate him?

Severus Snape noticed that the boy looked up at him quickly, unsurely, as if to judge his sincerity, as if trying to judge what would come.

'_Yes, to judge if you would beat him.'_ He thought with a grim expression crossing his face for a split second before he had his usual mask back in place. But then the boy quickly looked back down at his trainers and Snape had to suppress a sigh.

"You actually will have to enter this room in order to take a toy and use the bed." He drawled in his typical Snape-manner. "You won't be able to do so from the doorway."

"But …" The boy whispered, looking into the room for a second, longingly, before he gazed back at his trainers.

"Yes, Mr. Snape?" The Potions Master asked, lifting his eyebrow. Communication would be much easier if the boy looked at him.

"But this …" The boy took a deep breath as if preparing himself for something. "But this isn't a cupboard."

For a moment Snape was at a loss and fury swept through him in a wave so strong, he for a moment wasn't able to inhale a deep breath that would calm his anger at those damn, blasted and abominable monsters named Dursley.

"Look at me, child." He said, his voice low and he wondered how he managed to keep his voice as calm as it sounded.

When the boy hesitantly did as he was told Snape gazed into those frightened green eyes, pierced them with his own black ones and he grit his teeth the moment the boy averted his eyes again.

"Look at me!" He again ordered. "Regardless to what those idiots that had been your aunt and uncle had taught you, I do wish you to look at me when I speak to you."

The boy obeyed and looked up at him again and he could see that the child was ready to bolt from the room.

"A child does not belong into a cupboard, Harry." He said, forcing himself to display a calmness he didn't feel at all. "This is your room. And the bed inside, the desk and the toys, are yours to use. I only expect you to keep this room tidy. You will sleep here for the next few days until I can release you to the dormitory of the other pre-school children where you will sleep on schooldays. You will have the possibility to come and live here during the weekends and your holidays and this room will be yours to use then, as you are my son. Only during the week you have to sleep in your dormitory like the other children here."

Harry watched the man's face unsurely.

Didn't he know that he was a freak? And didn't he know that freaks weren't allowed to have a room? Didn't he know that freaks belonged into cupboards? That freaks should be grateful to even have a cupboard? And didn't he know that freaks weren't allowed toys and a bed? Maybe he was the first freak this man met? And maybe he should tell him before he found out later on his own and would be just the more angry at him then? Maybe he …

Taking a deep breath he run his tongue over his dry lips.

"But … but freaks aren't allowed a room." He said in a whisper. "Freaks aren't allowed to have toys."

It was all Snape could do to keep from growling dangerously, knowing that he only would startle the boy.

He had known how deep the neglect and the abuse went. He had known it since he had taken the child, his son, out of the Dursleys' household. He had seen the cupboard that held nothing for the child aside from the thin blanket and the worn mattress, a worn mattress that held old stains of dried blood, blood from this very child. And he had seen the injuries the boy had gathered all over his much too small and thin, underfed body. He had seen how far the neglect and how far the abuse went.

Kneeling down in front of the child he changed his tone, just slightly, moved from firm to gently. It was not the authority of a teacher the child right now needed but the comfort of a father, as less as he knew of raising children, that much he knew.

"No child is a freak and neither are you." He said. placing one hand onto the tiny shoulder and grabbing the small chin with his other hand. "A child is a child. Each child is different. You will not find a child that is similar to another one except for twins or sometimes siblings that might be similar to each other. But otherwise each child is different from another one, and not only in appearance but in behavior too. One of the largest differences, is the one between muggle children such as your cousin and wizarding children such as you. But just because you are a wizarding child that is able to perform accidental magic, that does not mean that you are a freak, as – _you – are – not!_ Is that clear, Mr. Snape?"

The child in front of him nodded slightly, frightened at the physical contact of his hands on the boy's shoulder and chin, but he nodded and that at least was a start. He would be able to work from there on – perhaps.

"Good." He sternly said. "And now go and have a look around your room. As I said, you may take a toy to your bed, but I expect you to take a nap for at least an hour until dinnertime."

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**

* * *

To be continued**

**Next time in Tears falling in darkness**

_A room, a bed, a shelf and a meal_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter ... thank you ...


	11. a bed, a table and the loo

**Title:**

The fourth house of Hogwarts

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Four years before Harry's first year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

An artifact was missing. A house was missing. And the sorting hat will have to sort it out. It makes its own decisions together with the castle. Will two persons within find their freedom after a long time of terror?

**Disclaimer: **

Well ... I do not own Harry Potter, nor Hogwarts, his friends or his belongings ... J. K. Rowling owns them all ... I am just about to mess around a bit in her books ...

I will try to write legible ... and well ... I promise I will not mess around with the ink ... and I will not use her quills and inkpot either, nor her parchments … I have some of my own …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm ... ok ... I have to admit ... English is not my language by birth ... so ... please do not kill me while reading ... neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing ... as there is Harry Potter being abused by his relatives …

don't like it, don't read it …

**Warning:**

Chapter contains references to child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help ... there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

What does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be ... ^.~ ... believe me - I am ...

* * *

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**Previously in the fourth house of Hogwarts**

_The child in front of him nodded slightly, frightened at the physical contact of his hands on the boy's shoulder and chin, but he nodded and that at least was a start. He would be able to work from there on – perhaps._

_"Good." He sternly said. "And now go and have a look around your room. As I said, you may take a toy to your bed, but I expect you to take a nap for at least an hour until dinnertime."_

**The fourth house of Hogwarts**

**Chapter eleven**

**A bed, a table and the loo**

The boy had nodded. The blasted child had nodded!

But still he stood there, still close to the doorway, as if he were ready to bolt from the room and his quarters, and still he looked scared, horrified and panicky.

"What exactly is frightening you, child?" He quietly asked while at the same time he couched down beside the small creature that was his son, trying to see the room from Harry's point of view.

"It's … it's so big, sir." The child whispered. "And … and I can't have it, sir. And … and I'd get lost, sir."

"You won't get lost." Snape sighed, trying to sound comforting, knowing that he would have to bring it down to a level for the boy to understand. It was always difficult for him doing so. He had learned at an early age that longer, complicated and sarcastic sentences did a good job of hiding any feeling of sentimentality. But this would not do with this boy that was frightened and insecure enough in the first place. "And I already told you, it is yours. This room will belong to _you_ and to _you_ alone. Every child does need a room, and this will be _yours_. Do you understand that?"

"Yes, sir." The boy quickly responded, nodding his head. "I'm sorry, sir."

Sighing Snape grit his teeth knowing that right now he wouldn't get more out of the child. Taking in the fact that he had a father now, that he had a room instead of a cupboard suddenly and that he would be allowed to choose a toy before sleeping apparently was too much for the child – he wouldn't be able to take in any more.

"Just pick a toy and go to sleep for an hour." He said, softly shoving the child into the direction of the shelf with the toys before getting back to his feet. "I will be outside in the parlor for a few preparations regarding your stay here. You will be able to come and speak to me if you find yourself unable to sleep."

He waited for another nod from the child and then he turned and left, leaving the door ajar so he would hear if the boy were distressed in his sleep, hoping the boy would be able to sleep at all as he had a lot to think over. The situation seemed to be far worse than he had expected and he feared that this only was the tip of the iceberg.

Harry meanwhile stood in front of the shelf that held the toys.

The man had said he had to pick one before sleeping. But still – freaks weren't allowed toys and he really should have said so to the man more clearly as the man clearly didn't know how to handle a freak. Maybe he just should go into the cupboard without picking a toy, and surely as soon as the man had realized his mistake he would be glad that he, Harry, had behaved like he should.

On the other hand – the man had said he had to pick a toy, and he knew what the punishment for disobedience was. Wincing at _that_ thought he quickly took another step to the shelf and looked the toys over. He surely wouldn't risk _this_. He had gotten a clear order and he would obey. And maybe, if he chose just a small toy, then maybe he wouldn't be punished so harsh if the man realized his mistake later on.

He vaguely remembered laying on aunt Petunia's sofa in her living room, and he shuddered at that thought, and he not only vaguely but _definitely_ remembered laying in a bed here in this place, whatever place this was. No, he was in already enough trouble as it was and he better didn't risk anything right now.

So he picked a small stony ball and went over to the cupboard.

Quietly he opened the door, hoping the hinges wouldn't creak. The man surely wouldn't want to be disturbed if he made too much noise. Creeping inside the tiny space he felt how tired he was and within moments he was asleep, clutching the small stony ball in his small fist at his chest. Whatever this small stony ball was, it surely was harmless and not expensive. It only was a stony ball, right?

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The Potions Master's heart nearly skipped a beat the moment he re-entered his son's room and noticed that the bed in the left hand corner was empty and his gaze quickly scanned the room. The fact that he still didn't find the boy did not set him at easy in any means and it took him a moment to realize that he actually was a wizard and in possession of a wand.

Drawing it and casting a quick 'point me' had him sighing with relief at the wand on his palm pointing at the cupboard to his right. He should have known. Or at least he should have thought at that. The boy had grown up in a cupboard after all. And hadn't he said that the room was too large? That he feared he would get lost in it?

Giving another sigh away he silently pulled the ajar door of the cupboard open and he watched his curled up son for a few moments before reaching out and placing his hand on the boy's shoulder to softly shaking him awake. Well, it wouldn't have been necessary to shake him and he surely couldn't do so either as the child jumped awake, eyes glassy and unfocused with sleep and tiredness but wide open at once nevertheless.

"I'm sorry, sir." Came the immediate reply after the boy had pressed himself into the farthest corner of the cupboard and after he had raised his arms in front of his face in an attempt to protect himself from a blow he surely awaited. "I … I won't do it again, sir." The boy continued his frantic rambling. "I … I'll be good. Please, sir."

Gritting his teeth Snape slowly reached out and gripping the small arms in a secure grip he gently pushed them down.

"Easy, child." He quietly said. "I won't harm you. You are safe. Do you remember where you are, Harry?"

Well, if he had thought that his son would be impressed by his speech, he had thought wrong. The boy gazed at him frightened and with lack of understanding and with a sigh the Potions Master grabbed the small shoulders and effortlessly pulled the skeleton that was his son out of the cupboard, stood the child in front of him, his hands still keeping a hold on the small shoulders.

"Why were you sleeping in this cupboard, child?" He asked, gently but sternly, knowing that he would have to keep the upper hand.

"I … I'm sorry, sir." The boy whispered. "I … I won't do so anymore, sir. I … I will sleep in a corner next time, sir."

Keeping himself from growling he furrowed his brows. That had not been the answer he had expected, nor was it one he had wished for.

"I … I can sleep on the floor in the cellar, if you wish, sir." The boy answered before he could say anything, apparently having seen his displeasure.

"That is not what I meant, Harry." Snape firmly said, still not releasing the boy's shoulders. "Neither will you sleep in a corner nor in the cellar. You won't sleep on the floor at all and surely not in the cupboard. For sleeping, there is this bed in your room and you are expected to use it."

"But … but freaks aren't allowed a bed, sir." The boy whispered, his eyes still downcast.

"Look at me, Harry." Severus said and the child quickly looked up at him before averting his eyes again and the Potions Master placed a finger underneath the boy's chin to force his head up so he had to look at him. "What have I told you earlier, Harry?"

The boy didn't answer for quite a while and the older wizard's gaze went even more strict.

"An answer, Harry." He demanded.

"You … you said that no child was a freak, sir." The boy answered in his still so soft voice that the Potions Master had to strain his ears to actually understand the words. "But … but I'm not a child, I'm a freak only, sir."

"You _are_ a child in all means, Harry, and that for you are _not_ a freak!" Severus said, trying to stay patient. "In future, I expect you to use the bed. Did I make myself clear?"

The boy nodded at him, his green eyes still frightened, his face wary and his stance as if ready to bolt from the room the moment he, Severus, released his shoulders.

"Good." The Potions Master said with a sigh. "And now come, dinner is prepared."

The boy nodded at him with a desperate and resigned look on his face but allowed him to lead him out of the room.

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Harry tried to keep the panic he felt from his face.

This here – well, it was a new place and a new man he would have to serve, and he didn't know _what_ of the things he needed he would find _where_. And he didn't know what the man that was his father, so he had said, would prefer. He didn't know how … and he didn't know where … and just _when_ was he supposed to … and … and …

For a moment he was sure he would faint, he could feel his knees tremble, he could feel his blood leaving his face and he could feel his fingers going numb. He didn't know anything and he would fail, and then he would be punished and he …

Remembering what he had learned over the years, remembering that showing his fears only would anger his uncle and surely this man too, remembering that as the servant he was he had to keep showing strength, he schooled his face into a blank mask and followed the man out of the room the man had said was his, followed him through the parlor and then into the kitchen, his mind already at the task at hand.

He simply would have to use his brain. He would find food in the fridge and he would find pots and pans in one of the lower cupboards. A plate, a glass and a cup he would find in one of the upper cupboards and cutlery he would find in one of the drawers. He simply would have to use his common sense and he would be fine.

The moment he entered the kitchen however, he stopped, panic flaring into his chest.

The table was already set and the food seemed already cooked.

The man had done _his_ work! The man had done his work while he had been sleeping! He had been lazy and … and …

Not daring to take a step further into the kitchen he tried to _not_ drown in his panic and he barely was able to manage, his heart beating like mad and his breath coming in short gasps. The man had cooked and laid the table and he had done his work while he himself had been sleeping lazily and he …

"Do not linger in the doorway, child, and come in." The man said and he forced himself to do as he was told, slowly stepped into the room, fighting to keep his knees from giving out underneath him. He stopped however beside the table, knowing that he had to stay close to at least serve the man.

"Take a seat!" He heard the man getting impatient and he nearly cringed, knowing that the trouble he was in already would get worse and worse, dreading the moment he would get his punishment. Well, the man surely would eat at first. Uncle Vernon had hated to punish him with an empty stomach, and the man too was already sitting at the table.

Quickly he scrambled to obey and sat at the floor in the corner near the sink, the corner where the man easily would be able to have an eye on him. Uncle Vernon always had hated it if he sat in a corner behind him. He wanted him to watch him eating and he wanted to watch him while eating.

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Closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose Severus Snape tried to keep his fury under control.

He was not angry at the boy, knowing that Harry only did what had been beaten into him by the damn muggle, but at the same time he was fury nevertheless and knowing that it wouldn't do any good if he showed his rage in front of the boy he tried to regain control.

"Harry." He said as gently as he could after taking a calming breath. "Please come over here and sit at the table."

Well, the startled and frightened look the boy sent at him told him everything and he really wasn't sure how long he would be able to restrain himself from simply snapping in half at the anger he felt.

"Please come over here and sit at the table for dinner." He repeated. "I am not going to hurt you."

But still the boy looked at him, nearly in panic, before he finally gathered up all his courage to answer.

"But … but I'm not allowed to sit at the table, sir." The boy said in a low whisper, just as always.

"Let me have a guess, Harry." Snape said. "It had been your uncle who told you that."

The boy simply nodded, his eyes still downcast at the floor.

Watching the boy close, the way he was sitting – _kneeling_ – in the corner at the floor, the Potions Master couldn't help thinking of a slave and couldn't help a low growl escaping his throat. A low growl that startled the child that tried to keep himself from cringing at the sound and again he couldn't help thinking of a creature that had been trained.

A child that had learned that his place was in a corner at the floor rather than on a chair at the table, a child that had learned to sleep in a cupboard, or a corner on the floor, rather than in a bed, and a child that had learned to kneel, hungry, while others ate, to control his fear when being growled at, and he knew that the child would not leave the corner without being ordered to. What he had no intention of doing, even if he knew exactly that it would be the only thing the boy knew about and even if he knew exactly that it would be the only thing the boy would be able to handle, even if he knew that the child wouldn't be able to understand anything else than orders.

Getting up from his own chair he slowly walked over to the corner where the child sat in and kneeling down in front of the child he gently reached out to place his fingers underneath the child's chin, forcing his head up again and locking his dark eyes into the green ones.

"This is the same as it is with the room and with the bed." He gently said. "You are _not_ a freak, you are _not_ a servant and you are _not_ a slave. You are a simple child and you are meant to sit at the table, on a chair."

He simply took hold of the small shoulders and ignoring the barely suppressed flinch he pulled the boy to his feet and steered him towards the table, ushered him to sit at a chair.

Sensing somehow that Harry would not serve himself he simply scooped soup into the bowl that stood in front of the boy and then sat back at his chair.

"Eat." He simply ordered, barely able to keep his fury at bay any longer.

"But …." The boy started and slowly Severus dropped his own spoon at the knowledge of the child's next words, looking over at the boy and desperately hoping he wouldn't be right. "But I'm not allowed to eat, sir."

"And that would be why?" He couldn't help asking, his voice starting to tremble with rage, even if he had known that this answer would come.

"I … I haven't earned my food, sir." The boy whispered. "I … I have not done my chores, sir. And … and you have not finished eating yet, sir. And … and I'm not allowed to eat _that _anyway, sir."

"And what, Harry, would it be, you were allowed to eat then?" He asked.

"A … a piece of … of old bread." The boy whispered, close to tears now and he could feel the boy's humiliation at that admission.

A piece of old bread!

Had the boy ever had anything else to eat than a piece of old bread every other day?

'_I'm going to kill them!'_ Severus thought. _'Merlin help, I swear, I will kill them for denying my son, for denying any child basic human needs.'_

Merlin, he remembered that his own father had been cruel, but he always had had a meal at least, while his son actually had had to _earn_ the right to eat, in other words, had had to earn his right to actually _live_. Even a house elf would have been handled with more care than this child had been for years and he closed his eyes for a moment while realizing that the situation actually might be worse than he originally had thought.

He couldn't help wondering if this boy even had a mind on his own left.

Stupid question!

It was clear that he hadn't. He just wasn't sure how far this …

"You will eat!" He growled, pointing at the bowl with soup in front of the boy. "And you will eat now and as much as you can!"

He hated it, hated it deeply, while at the same time he knew that it would be the only thing the boy would respond to right now.

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Harry meanwhile was stunned at the fact that he was supposed to eat at the table, that he was to eat without having his chores done, without even having cooked the meal, and that he was supposed to _not_ wait until the man was finished. Not to mention that someone would give him food willingly in the first place.

But what was even more amazing was, that it was fresh food, warm and not old and stale bread that had green spots on it. It was the total opposite of what uncle Vernon ever had said to him and with much reluctance he took the spoon and lowered it into the bowl with soup in front of him, carefully, unsurely. It felt strange to sit at a table in the first place, but with someone else sitting there with him was just nearly unbearable.

This all was wrong! Uncle Vernon had said freaks weren't allowed at tables with normal people! But this man said he was to sit at the table! And to eat! And soup!

He didn't know what to do.

Slowly he scooped the spoon with some soup on it out of the bowl, not daring to look at the man, but his eyes never leaving his hands. Maybe it simply had been a trick, like with uncle Vernon once. Maybe he would take the spoon and the bowl away the moment the spoon touched his lips, like uncle Vernon had done once, with mocking words at how stupid he was, believing that he actually would get something else than his stale bread. He had gained the beating of his life afterwards for not knowing better.

Well, it hadn't been a difference. He always had gained himself the beating of his life.

But nothing happened this time.

He kept the spoon for a moment longer in front of his lips, simply breathing in the smell of the soup and savoring the moment, the smell. He would be satisfied with that, he promised himself. But still nothing happened and slowly he closed his lips around the spoon and did as he was told – he simply ate.

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Snape watched the boy close and the fact that the child never left his eyes from his hands disturbed him greatly. Yet – he should have known. Of course Harry watched his hands, fearing he would be beaten.

The moment however the boy had the spoon close to his mouth, he nearly could see the thoughts crossing his son's mind and the grip he had on his own spoon tightened. He even noticed how the boy took in the smell of the soup that was on his spoon without actually visibly smelling at it, simply breathing in the smell and he could see the desperation nearly driving tears to the child's eyes, before he finally took all the courage he could master and scooped the spoon into his mouth, a flicker of panic crossing the pale face momentarily.

He felt anger beyond what he ever had felt in his life.

He often had felt anger. Anger at his father for his cruelty, anger at himself for driving away Lily, anger at Dumbledore for his scheming and for forcing him to become a spy, even if he took it as an opportunity to atone for his sins, and last but not least and surely the most anger he always had felt at the Dark Lord when the bastard was enjoying his torturing sessions.

But never before had he felt anger such as right now.

Those monsters, as it seemed, had not only neglected and starved the boy, they had not only abused the boy, they actually had trained this child, _his son!_ Into what, he better didn't dare thinking of.

He would have to have a word with Poppy, and maybe with the headmaster too. But then – he wasn't sure if he should trust the headmaster with this yet.

The man hadn't addressed him yet about Slytherin being reinstalled and him being the head of this new house.

Filius had met him in a corridor this morning, and he actually had congratulated him, as had Minerva. But the rest of the professors he had met insofar had stared at him as if he had grown a second head. The fact that Minerva had congratulated him, well, he hadn't wondered about this. He always had gotten along with Minerva rather well. But Filius? He had been startled as the man had addressed him in a friendly manner about him being the new head of Slytherin that had been reinstalled after many years no less.

He actually was glad that Dumbledore had not been here yet, and he hoped that he wouldn't come to address him with that anytime soon.

Not to mention that he then would have to explain why Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, was present in his quarters in the first place. So – no, better not addressing anything to the headmaster. But to Poppy, he knew her well and he knew that he could trust her, never mind what it was with.

Looking back at Harry he lifted his eyebrow at his son that was trying to suppress squirming in his seat.

"Do you need anything, Harry?" He asked, his eyes wandering at the half emptied bowl, the spoon that was still in the boy's hands and the child struggling with the remaining soup.

"No, sir." The boy answered quietly. "I'm sorry, sir."

"You do not have to empty the soup if you are not able to." He said, trying to sound reassuringly. "And neither do you have to apologize, Harry. You did nothing wrong."

"Yes, sir." Was the answer. "I'm sorry, sir." And he sighed frustrated. It would take him a lot of time and patience – he rarely had – to get this habit out of the boy.

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He barely could believe it!

He actually could _not_ believe it!

Not only had he had food that was fresh, and a warm soup at that, but the man hadn't punished him for not finishing the food.

Uncle Vernon would have killed him – after accusing him of being an ungrateful whelp that didn't deserve what he had gotten, and after punishing him for wasting perfectly good food.

But this man hadn't. This man had been the complete opposite from what uncle Vernon had been and he had told him the complete opposite things from what uncle Vernon had told him. And he didn't understand. He didn't know what to do and he didn't know what to think. He didn't know what would come next and he didn't know how to handle the situation, the man, _anything_. He was at a complete loss.

He could tell that the man was angry. That he was _very_ angry, from the way he looked, and he could understand.

Since he was here, he had been bad. He had slept and he had not done any chores. He had not eaten all of the soup the man had given him so generously and now he was fidgeting and barely able to keep from shifting on his chair every now and then. Of course the man was angry.

If he just would be able to use the loo. But he knew that he should not try the man's patience any more than he already had. He had been granted already _too_ much, and _even_ if the man was angry. If he now asked to use the loo, he surely would snap then. Better not risking anything with this man.

It wasn't that he feared him because he was all black with those deep, black eyes, nor that the man looked foreboding in the first place, scary somehow even, It wasn't the fact that the man had this unmoving facial expression he couldn't read anything of either. He just feared him, because he feared everyone.

Well, that wasn't hard, was it? He didn't know many people at all.

He however knew that, no matter how desperately he had to use the loo, he would have to do the dishes first, and that he would have to clean the kitchen and the rest of the place first. He hadn't seen much of it yet, but he hoped that it wouldn't be too much work as he was tired, ready to drop, in fact.

But the worst before he would be allowed to get ready for sleeping, would be his punishment.

He knew that he wouldn't be allowed to use the loo before his punishment. He never was, and that was the most horrible part. He knew that he barely could keep from peeing during the beatings and uncle Vernon sometimes had beaten him until he actually couldn't hold it any longer, just to punish him for that too.

But he really shouldn't complain. Of course he had to be punished if he made such a mess, if he was such a swine and peed on the floor. That was why he was not allowed to sit at the table like normal people, because he was a freak and a swine. And that was why he couldn't have a bed and why he had to be punished. He just didn't understand why this man didn't know.

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They had been sitting at the table for a bit longer and he had watched the boy getting more and more uncomfortable, squirming in his chair more and more by the minute, and he was trying to find out what it was the child needed – until it struck him.

The boy looked like one of the first years that had to use the toilet but didn't dare to ask during lessons and thinking of it, he remembered that the boy hadn't used it since they had come down here.

"Harry?" He asked, watching the boy flinch. "Do you have to use the toilet?"

He lifted his eyebrow at the startled look from the child that turned into a near panicked one while he wondered what was wrong now. It had been a simple question.

"No … no, sir." Harry hastily answered, his face going pale and the small form actually started trembling like mad. "No, sir." The boy repeated. "I'm sorry, sir. I can hold it, sir."

Blinking at that statement the Potions Master tried to roll his mind around the words before they started to sink in and then he barely was able to restrain himself from hissing at the boy in a state of cold murder at the fact of how deep the abuse went, to a point where basic needs such as using the toilet, that everyone would take for granted, were but a privilege for Harry.

"Follow me!" He shortly said, not trusting his voice to speak more than necessary without snapping at the child that was innocent of the situation and he got up.

Harry didn't follow him and with a short "now!" he extended his hand towards the door.

The boy stood up, reluctantly, pure horror written all over his pale face, over his features, over his movements, and after a faltering step he went past him hastily and with as much space to him as possible, nearly running into the doorframe with the attempt and again the Potions Master had to grit his teeth at the display of pure and raw fear.

Snape quickly went past the boy and led him through the living room. He opened the next door to his right and again extended his hand, indicating the boy that he may enter.

"The toilet." He simply said, his voice nearly a harsh rasp.

Harry looked at him uncertainly and then nodded.

"What … what may I use to clean it, sir?"

The Potions Master wanted nothing else than hitting his head at the wall as hard as possible.

"You do not have to clean it." He said. "Use it!"

"But … but I'm not …"

"_Just _– use it!" Snape growled, closing his eyes to regain control. He only opened them the moment he heard the ripple from inside and he actually had to lean against the wall for a moment. The boy hadn't even dared to close the door.

He _had _to admit it to himself now - it was worse than what he had imagined and he knew that he would have a hard time getting the boy to act like a normal child, if he ever would. This particular incident actually had been the last proof to his fears he had came to earlier. The boy had been trained into not simply a servant, but into a slave and he didn't know what to do.

For the first time in his life, he didn't know what to do.

Not that he was able to think a clear thought right now anyway, but he knew, even if he were able to, he wouldn't know what to do.

He had met slaves before, while being with the Dark Lord, had even been forced to keep one by himself back then, but that had been not a child but an adult. And it had been hard work, months of months, terrible, harsh and frustrating work, to get this young man back into a normal human being.

And this here – this here was only a seven year old child, his son.

He couldn't do this again! No matter how much he knew that the child would not understand anything else right now, he couldn't do this again. No matter the fact that the boy wouldn't be able to deal with anything else, he couldn't be that harsh to an already abused creature, and a child no less, until he had turned him back into a human living creature, until he had taught him that he wasn't a slave and until he …

The flush got him off his thoughts, alerted him that the boy had finished and he waited for Harry to appear – what didn't take long.

"Wash your hands." Snape tiredly ordered, sending the child back in.

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**

* * *

To be continued**

**Next time in The forth house of Hogwarts  
**

_Poppy, rules and family_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you ...


	12. what to do?

**Title:**

The fourth house of Hogwarts

**Author:**

evil minded

**Timeframe:**

Four years before Harry's first year at Hogwarts

**Summary:**

An artifact was missing. A house was missing. And the sorting hat will have to sort it out. It makes its own decisions together with the castle. Will two persons within find their freedom after a long time of terror?

**Disclaimer: **

Well ... I do not own Harry Potter, nor Hogwarts, his friends or his belongings ... J. K. Rowling owns them all ... I am just about to mess around a bit in her books ...

I will try to write legible ... and well ... I promise I will not mess around with the ink ... and I will not use her quills and inkpot either, nor her parchments … I have some of my own …

**Rating:**

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

**Author's Notes:**

Uhm ... ok ... I have to admit ... English is not my language by birth ... so ... please do not kill me while reading ... neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing ... as there is Harry Potter being abused by his relatives …

don't like it, don't read it …

**Warning:**

Chapter contains references to child abuse.

Child abuse is a really, really serious and evil thing, and whenever you meet someone, child or adult, who shows any signs – whichever - of once being abused, then try to help ... there are too much humans in our world who are or had been mistreated.

What does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be ... ^.~ ... believe me - I am ...

* * *

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**Previously in the fourth house of Hogwarts**

_He couldn't do this again! No matter how much he knew that the child would not understand anything else right now, he couldn't do this again. No matter the fact that the boy wouldn't be able to deal with anything else, he couldn't be that harsh to an already abused creature, and a child no less, until he had turned him back into a human living creature, until he had taught him that he wasn't a slave and until he …_

_The flush got him off his thoughts, alerted him that the boy had finished and he waited for Harry to appear – what didn't take long. _

_"Wash your hands." Snape tiredly ordered, sending the child back in._

**The fourth house of Hogwarts**

**Chapter twelve**

**What to do?**

"Severus." Poppy greeted the Potions Master who had entered the hospital wing. "Has Harry settled down?"

"Just give me a glass of your strongest Whiskey, Poppy." The young wizard said heavily and in an uncharacteristically way he sat down into one of the chairs in the matron's office, slumping tiredly into the chair.

"What happened, Severus?" The woman asked while turning towards her locked cupboard and taking out a bottle and two tumblers.

"_My son_ – that is what happened, woman!" The man growled darkly and Poppy looked over at him curiously while pouring in the golden liquid. She reached one of the drinks over at the Potions Master who took the glass with a trembling hand, and then she sat down into another chair.

"What happened, Severus?" She repeated her question.

"They have trained the boy, Poppy." Snape finally said after taking a long sip from the whiskey. "They actually have trained the boy into a slave. He doesn't sleep in his bed but in the cupboard, even now – in this very moment. He doesn't eat without being ordered to and even then only reluctantly. If ordered to sit down, he _kneels_ into a corner on the floor instead of sitting on a chair at the table. And he doesn't even use the toilet without being ordered to and even then he doesn't dare to close the door."

"You're not serious, Severus!" Poppy gasped, her entire face shocked.

"I am." The Potions Master growled, taking another sip from his drink. "They allowed him no food aside from old bread every now and then, barely enough to keep him alive. The Dursley boy even called him a _'servant'_ and he had to work like a slave to earn his keep. They kept him in a cupboard and they allowed him no privacy, what the open door to the toilet proves. He owned nothing there but was beaten and starved and horribly punished for the slightest mistakes."

Poppy didn't comment on that and he could see that the woman simply was too shocked to say anything.

"Imagine my anger towards those monsters when I saw _my son_ – kneeling in a corner on the floor in my kitchen after ordering him to have a seat, Poppy!" Snape raged, getting to his feet and pacing the office furiously. "And imagine my frustration at learning that the boy was not allowed to use the toilet without their permission! And then imagine my anger when the boy didn't even dare to close the door to the toilet while I have been standing outside! That is what the Dark Lord expected from his slaves! No freedom, no privacy and no possession or food unless he said so."

There was a long pause during which none of them spoke.

The school nurse was sitting in her chair, feeling numb, while the Potions Master was standing in front of the fireplace, leaning against the mantelpiece with his hands and gazing into the fire, his thoughts whirling behind his forehead like a whirlwind.

"How deep is this ingrained into his brain?" The woman finally asked.

"What do you _think_ how deep it is ingrained into his brain?" The young wizard angrily asked back, turning towards her with a snap of his robes.

"Is there a chance to reverse it?" Poppy inquired.

This time Snape didn't snap back at her. He only sighed and his shoulders slumped.

"There is a way, and one way only." He finally said in a low voice that sounded strangely dejected. "And even this way, it is no promise for success. But I cannot do this."

Poppy lifted her eyebrows at the man's statement.

She knew Severus Snape since long years now, and she knew that he often brought some of the students to her after the holidays. She also knew that some of the students confided into him and that he always had been able to help them, never mind how much they had been mistreated at home. In fact, that was the reason why she secretly thought that no other teacher would have been able to act as the head of the newly installed Slytherin house aside from Severus.

But to hear those words now, to hear from Severus that he wouldn't be able to do something that would help the boy, it was more than startling, it was frightening.

"What is it that has to be done?" She finally dared to ask, hesitantly, slowly, and definitely dreading the answer.

Yet – she didn't get one for a long time. Snape just stood there, one hand still holding the tumbler with the golden liquid and the other hand leaning atop the backrest of the chair he had been sitting in minutes earlier, while his gaze was lost in space – or time, somehow.

"What is it that has to be done, Severus?" She repeated her question and finally the man looked over at her.

"You do not really want to know, Poppy." The man stated after another few moments of silence.

"I would not ask if I would not want to know, Severus." Poppy said, understanding that the man didn't want to talk about it. But finally the shock had made space for the calm serenity and professionalism of being a medi witch. She just would have to get Severus back to his normal collected self too.

"Severus?" She asked, after another few moments of silence from the Potions Master who finally looked over at her.

"I have taken the boy from the Dursleys." The wizard finally said in a voice that was strangely hollow. "The Dursleys had been the family he had – _'served'_ - and I have taken him from them. Never mind the fact that I am his father, he expects that he is treated by me as he has been treated by _them_. He expects me to be his - _'master'_ – as I have taken him from his former - _'master'._ He sees himself as a – _'slave'_. First to the Dursleys, and now to me."

Poppy Pomfrey had to take a long sip of her drink too now and her face had gone pale at the man's words.

"But I can't do this." Snape finally whispered, his voice laced with a desperation she was not used from the normally so collected and cool, outwardly uncaring man.

"How far would you have to go?" Poppy asked calmly and the Potions Master looked at her in sheer disbelief.

"You surely do not consider that thought, woman!" He gasped. "You don't know _what_ you are considering there!"

"How far would you have to go, Severus?" The older witch repeated her question.

"Too far!" Snape growled, gritting his teeth in fury. "I would have to give him orders for everything – for sleeping, for eating, for sitting at the table, for using the toilet, for dressing, for absolutely _everything_. I would have to give him chores, I would have to … damn! I would have to punish him if he made mistakes! Don't you get it, woman! I cannot do this! This is out of question! Not to a child! Not to my son!"

"What would happen if you don't do it?" She finally asked and Snape released a deep sigh.

"He wouldn't understand anything." He finally said in a low and defeated voice. "He simply wouldn't be able to function on his own. He wouldn't know what to do and when to do it. He … his entire world would be turned upside down and he wouldn't be able to deal with the situation. He simply would do nothing without an order. He has not learned to … he hasn't even learned to use the toilet, to take a bath, to wash himself or what privacy means, what it means to have three meals a day – or even _one_ meal each day! He has not learned to use a bed or to touch a toy. The only thing he has learned is to clean, to cook, to do the laundry, to obey and to be hungry and beaten. He simply would not understand and he simply would not function without orders."

"Then it is clear what you have to do, Severus!" Poppy finally said, her voice sounding as hollow and as defeated as the Potions Master's. "If this is what will happen if you don't do it, then you simply have to."

"And I say, I simply cannot do this!" The Potions Master whispered.

"You will have no other choice, Severus." Poppy said. "As I see it, you won't even be able to get him to eat without ordering the boy to. You won't get him to use the toilet without ordering him to, and you won't be able to get him to sleep without ordering him to. As I see it, he won't eat if you simply ask him to, but he has to eat. And the same goes for everything else. There simply is no other way."

"No!" Snape said stubbornly. "I won't be a master again, not to anyone and surely not to a child, not to my son! I won't do that! Never ever again!"

"Again?" Poppy asked curiously, trying to figure out a way to get the Potions Master doing that which he just had refused to do a moment ago, knowing that it simply had to be done if it was the only way to get the child to function at all.

"I have done it once." Snape admitted, his black eyes growing cold and emotionless and Poppy knew the man simply was shielding his own emotions from her in a defiant manner. "The Dark Lord thought it appropriate that all the members of his inner circle owned a slave and he got them from a slave market in only Merlin knows what despicable country. I have done my best to secretly teach him that he was not a slave but a human being and I released him the moment the Dark Lord vanished. So I _do_ know what it means, trying to teach a slave what it means to be a normal human being. It is nearly impossible and it is cruel as he won't understand it in the beginning, as I would have to handle him as a slave in the beginning, as I only slowly could ease up on him."

"And yet – you say that the boy won't be able to function otherwise." Poppy said calmly. "What do you plan, Severus? Standing in front of the boy and kindly ask him to eat what you give him? It won't work, and you know it, otherwise you wouldn't be here and so upset. The boy only would look at you, not understanding and fearing the punishment – for either disobeying you if he didn't eat or for eating without your clear orders. I think for the child _that _would be more cruel, Severus."

"I have done a lot to help the mistreated children throughout the years." Severus growled darkly. "What probably is the reason that damnable hat placed me as the head of Slytherin. I do not shy away from giving out orders to them if necessary, I do not shy away from being cruel if necessary, but _that_ goes too far, even for me. I have done it once, and I simply cannot do it again."

"You are right, Severus." Poppy said in a very low voice. "You never shied away from being cruel if necessary. This is no difference. If you have to be cruel in order to …"

"I simply say no!" Snape growled, getting off his chair. "I simply say no! I cannot and I will not do this again!"

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Coming back to his quarters Severus Snape paced his parlor for a few minutes, more upset than he had left it more than an hour ago. He had hoped that Poppy would find another way, that she would have another solution. The fact that she hadn't, didn't ease his worries nor his fury.

He simply couldn't do that again. He simply couldn't act as a master again. He simply couldn't give a child orders as if the boy were a slave, he couldn't give a child that was weak and in need of rest chores to complete, never mind how small those chores were, knowing that if he set out too small chores, the boy would notice, and he simply couldn't punish a child for minor mistakes, never mind how harmless the punishments were, knowing that if he set the punishments to low, then the boy would notice. And he knew – the moment the boy noticed, it would be as if a world crushed on him. The boy wouldn't understand.

But he _had_ to get the boy to understand, to understand the situation, to understand the difference between slavedom and humanity, and to understand that it all was wrong, only then, only if the boy understood, he could learn to live a different life.

Oh, yes – the boy _would _learn to function one day without orders – but it always would haunt him, he always would wait for the punishment, and with the years passing the fear of repaying punishments for years of not acting as the slave he was would be overwhelming. He had seen it, with other young men in the same place. All of them had ended their lives sooner or later, one way or another. None of them had ever learned to really function without the thought that they were slaves and would have to pay one day for their yearlong disobedience, even if this disobedience had been in their eyes only.

The only way to get the boy to live a normal life in freedom was – he would have to teach him what it meant. Slowly, little by little. But he couldn't. How could he, knowing that he had to act as a master first? How could he, knowing that the boy only would fear him? How could he, knowing that he would have to act cruelly?

No! He huffed. There simply was no way! This simply was no option!

Sighing with frustration and worry the Potions Master turned towards the room the castle had added to his quarters, the room the boy lay in – in the cupboard instead of in his bed, and he shoved the ajar door open while casting a soft lumos so he wouldn't disturb the boy with the light flittering through the gap of the half open cupboard door.

Harry had heard the door to the room the dark man had said was his being shoved open and he kept as still and silent as possible even if his bladder nearly killed him. Of course he had been to the toilet after the man had ordered him to. But that had been too long ago and the man simply had made him drinking too much.

With the Dursleys he soon had learned not to drink too much, not that he had gotten much in the first place. A glass of water before being ordered into his cupboard and a few sips in the morning, sometimes throughout the day, was all. And even that had been enough so he sometimes had peed during the beatings. But this man had made him drink a glass of water after arriving at his quarters. And then a glass of a strange juice during dinner. And a glass of water before going to bed. And now he simply needed the loo desperately.

Well, he surely couldn't do _that_! Not if he somehow could hold it!

The man definitely was not Godfather Death, as he had thought at first. He had said he was his father, but that surely meant nothing, it wasn't a term he could handle. But if the man wasn't Godfather Death – well, there was only one possibility left. The man had taken him from the Dursleys, and as strange as he might be, he slowly realized that the only possible way was – he was the new one he had to serve now, he his new master.

And if the man was his new master – well, then he better didn't risk anything with him. So he just hoped and prayed that the man would not come any closer than a few steps for then he would see the tear tracks imprinted on his face.

He wasn't one who cried easily, but with the amount of water the man had made him drinking today – his bladder simply hurt and he barely knew how to hold it for much longer.

Not realizing that the soft light hadn't vanished yet, but not hearing the soft footsteps anymore, Harry continued rocking back and forth in a desperate manner to somehow comfort himself, to somehow get his mind off the fact that he simply had to use the loo.

Severus had entered the room, but instead of immediately going over to the cupboard where his son lay in, he went to the stool over which the boy's – well, _'clothes'_ were placed and he took hold of the Jeans that looked as if fitting a baby-whale but surely not the boy that was his son. Well – they were the younger Dursley's clothes, he knew, and so he surely shouldn't wonder.

What had him however – again – furious, was the fact that those clothes were not only too large for the small child, but that they were dirty and torn to a point where he wondered how the boy had managed to not getting ill and he was just about to discard the filthy piece of cloth when he thought about searching through the pockets.

He doubted that the boy had been allowed any possession, but if the child somehow had managed to own _anything_, then it surely was not his place to take it away. So he searched the pockets and in the back pocket his found a piece of paper. Taking it out, with the thought that maybe it could be a picture or something like that, he unfold the paper.

What he however saw …

The writing on it was old and faded on the folds, barely readable on other spots where tears or water had smeared with the letters and he even could make out a spot of blood or two. He however nevertheless could make out the words, knowing that it must have been Vernon Dursley's handwriting as he knew and remembered Petunia's.

_'I have to get up quickly and quietly in the morning.'_ He read and he couldn't stop his fingers from trembling.

'_I'm not allowed to use the toilet without permission.'_

'_I'm not allowed to eat without permission.'_

'_I'm not allowed to drink without permission.'_

'_I'm not allowed to speak without permission.'_

'_I have to work to earn my keep.'_

'_I have to obey to earn my keep.'_

'_I have to serve to earn my keep.'_

'_I have to watch during meals to know my place.'_

'_I have to kneel in a corner __to know my place.'_

'_I have to be punished for my mistakes.'_

'_I have to endure the punishments silently.'_

'_I have no rights, only duties.'_

'_I'm not allowed to sleep without permission.'_

He had already known those … _'rules'_ … he had learned them the day before … but to read them written on this worn piece of paper … they made his blood boil with fury, with rage and he wanted nothing else than to slowly kill Dursley, to skin him, to …

'_You will take me away?'_

'_Will it hurt__?'_

'_Then you are … then you are not … Godfather Death__?'_

Those few questions the boy had asked, the hopeful face that had changed into a startled and frightened one … he simply couldn't get them out of his mind and he understood more and more.

Not daring to continue reading what was written on the lower half of the parchment, he already had his wand at the ready to banish the offending piece of paper before closing his eyes, his thoughts in a mess. If the boy would not function without him acting as his new master, he would need those damn _'rules'_ so he could teach the boy new ones _… _ He would need them if he wanted an evidence for court if he got Dursley in front of the Wizengamot _… _If he now destroyed this piece of paper, it could be a mistake, as much as it tempted him to destroy it, to burn it, to rip it in thousands of peaces.

Gritting his teeth he simply folded the paper and pocketed it. If he kept it for evidence, even if he kept it to set new rules for the boy, he would not leave it to the child to go over them again and again and again. He would have to learn that those rules didn't apply anymore. He would have to …

A soft whimper coming from the cupboard had him out of his thoughts and quickly but silently he went over to the furniture.

Walking over to the furniture he peered inside the small place, wincing at the thought of a small child laying on the bottom of the wardrobe, but the sight that greeted him the moment he gazed through the half open door into the small space - it was not what he had expected, nor what he had wished to see and he gritted his teeth again while his shoulders slumped in defeat. Harry was laying on the bottom of the cupboard, just as he had allowed him for once.

The boy was laying on his side, his back facing the back wall of the cupboard, rolled up into a small ball, and the boy was rocking back and forth, tear tracks visible on the pale face. He easily could see that those rocking movements were something to comfort himself, whether from physical pain for from emotional.

Going down onto one knee he slowly reached out his hand to touch his son, to get him out of his miserable daze, but the child shot up as if stung by an adder, his arms covering his face momentarily, before going into a kneeling position and lowering them to his side, as if allowing free reign for him over the boy and he had to fight to keep himself under control. It clearly was another thing that monster had taught him. He wanted free access at the boy, without the child defending himself, and he wanted the boy _giving _him this free access.

"Easy, child." He whispered, again reaching out and simply placing his hand atop the boy's knee, keeping it there. "What is wrong, Harry? Why aren't you asleep?"

"Nothing, sir." Came the quick answer. "I … I'm sorry, sir."

"There is no need to be, Harry. Just tell me what your problem is."

Well, if he had thought it would be so easy, then he had thought wrong. And honestly, he should have known. The boy had been trained as a slave by the Dursleys, of course he would not answer otherwise than claiming that he was alright even if he wasn't – with an added apology. Sighing he knew, there was no other way than to cast a diagnostic spell and after casting three different ones he finally found out – and once more pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration while sighing.

"Harry." He addressed the boy that was still kneeling in the cupboard. "You are allowed to use the toilet."

Harry looked at the man, startled. He didn't know what the man had done with this stick, but maybe it somehow helped him reading his thoughts or something like that, because he had found out. And he didn't look pleased about it. He actually looked frustrated, very frustrated, angry.

Well, he could understand the man. He had been a disappointment since he had taken him from his uncle, for which he really was very grateful. And now he had caused trouble again. The Dursleys had been right, he was an ungrateful little whelp that had to be punished for being so ungrateful.

And now the man had said he was allowed to use the loo. But he wasn't, he knew the rules! He had learned the rules the hard way and he knew that he wasn't allowed to simply use the loo. Not before he had earned it and surely not before his punishment. So he simply didn't know what to do, how much more he could push the man before he snapped. And he knew that the man was already close to snapping. The expression on the man's face said everything.

He didn't understand and so he did the only thing he could think of – he apologized again. He knew that it wouldn't change anything if he apologized. He would be punished nevertheless. But it would be worse if he didn't, _that _he knew. So he apologized, and he told the man that freaks were not allowed to use the loo.

Closing his eyes Severus again pinched the bridge of his nose. He wouldn't get anywhere if he continued like this. He _knew_, deep down, what he had to do, but he also knew that he simply couldn't do that.

"Harry, listen." He sighed, feeling more tired than he ever had in his life before. "You _are_ allowed to use the toilet. You are _not _a freak. You are _not _a slave. You are _not _a servant. You are but a normal child and you are allowed to use the toilet. I want you to use the toilet."

But still nothing happened aside from the boy looking at him with clear lack of understanding.

"Child, what do I have to do so you understand?" He asked, more to himself than to the child itself.

Still not understanding the situation Harry looked up at the man and he didn't know what to do. He _did_ understand! It was the _man _that didn't understand. It was the man that didn't understand the rules. It was the man that didn't understand that he was a freak! And it was the man that didn't understand how to handle a freak! The man acted as if it was the first time he had a servant and didn't know how to handle one. He didn't even know the rules!

He didn't want to do this.

He knew that he would anger the man that was close to snapping even further if he did. Uncle Vernon never would have allowed him to make a suggestion, to tell him what to do. He would have killed him at once. But this man didn't know what to do and he simply would have to help him out. He simply would have to tell him the rules or he would be in even more trouble the moment the man found out by himself and he had not told him. But at the same time he knew that if he made a suggestion … well, he just would have to deal with it.

"I … I'm sorry, sir." He quietly said, carefully, trying to find the right words so the man wouldn't feel patronized or even worse domineered, trying to find the words that his uncle would have expected of him, trying to remember what his uncle had taught him. "May … may I ask you to allow me … to allow me to earn my right to use the loo, sir? A freak such as I is allowed to use the loo only after earning the right and after the punishments."

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"I'm sorry, sir." The boy said and the Potions Master could see the sheer panic radiating off the child, could see the concentration to prepare his next words. "May … may I ask you to allow me … to allow me to earn my right to use the loo sir?"

The Potions Master had to force himself to stay calm and to keep from cutting the boy off. He had to keep himself from showing the fury and the rage he felt. The desperation he had felt earlier was gone completely, had made room for the blood boiling rage and fury he felt and he actually was ready to kill at the boy's next words. "A freak such as I is allowed to use the loo only after earning the right and after the punishments."

It was clear that those words were not the words of a seven year old child, that those words had been planted deeply into the boy by those abominable Monsters that had been the boy's guardians for the past few years and suddenly he just _knew_ that there really was only one way to counter the believes that had been planted into his son's brain during those years. A way that was a long and difficult one to go and a way he didn't want to go with the child at all.

His gaze getting hard he knew that he had to make a decision here and now, and a decision not aiding _him_, but the child he had in front of him, his son.

Harry watched the man carefully, unsure of what would happen next, not knowing how angry the man would get at his words, not knowing if the man would beat him for daring to make a suggestion, not knowing … well, the man didn't do anything. He just stared at him, his black eyes going hard, but he still didn't do anything. He didn't allow him to earn his right to go to the loo, nor did he deny it. He just radiated a fury he knew from his uncle, just calmer. He didn't scream at him, he didn't make a move to beat him, he just stayed calm and he didn't know if this was a good sign or not. His uncle never had been so calm. It seemed dangerous to him, this man being so calm, sensing that _if _the man finally snapped, it would be worse hundredfold than what his uncle could do.

Close to panicking at the man's outward calmness he didn't know anything else to do than leaning forwards and he tentatively reached out his hand to open the man's trousers. If he were lucky, then the man would be quick and he … the man's hand grabbing his wrist in a nearly painful grasp made him jump and he nearly gave a startled scream, and looking up he could see that the man finally _had _snapped. He swallowed thickly.

Snape was just about to get up and do what was necessary in order to get the boy to understand when said boy slowly extended his hand and with a troubled feeling in his stomach he watched the small hand nearing his trousers.

Sudden understanding flared in his mind and blinking in shock he gazed into the child's face that had gone pale beyond what he ever had seen on a child's face. He even thought he could see the boy's thoughts crossing the pale forehead and snapping out of his stupor he grabbed the small hand just the moment the fingers touched the button of his trousers.

"Enough!" He nearly thundered. He knew that he startled the child, and he knew that his grasp on the boy's wrist hurt the child, but _that_ simply was beyond what he was ready to deal with. He had thought he already had discovered the worst, but _that_ …

"Enough!" He repeated, releasing the boy's wrist and quickly getting to his feet.

If he had been hesitant a moment before, he was sure now. Poppy had been right. There simply was no other way and he had to start right now.

"It is enough!" He finally said, calmer now. "Stand up!"

Looking at him startled and frightened the child obeyed quickly and he could see that his son seemed to have a great deal of control over his own body, ignoring the numbness in his legs he was sure the boy felt from the kneeling he had done earlier.

"You will go and use the toilet, right now!" He ordered. "You will close the door behind you and then you will wash your hands! After you have finished you will come out immediately and you will accompany me to the parlor for a talk about new rules!"

Harry could see the man snapping, screaming at him, and he tried to rear back, unable to as the man still held his wrist in a painful grasp, and he knew now he was in for it, he had gone too far. But he didn't understand. He had done nothing else than uncle Vernon had expected of him, nothing else than uncle Vernon said a freak such as he would have to do. If he wanted to use the loo, then he had to do _that_. The man didn't want this however, as it seemed, and he didn't know what to do now.

He was relieved that he hadn't had to do that. He hated doing that. But he didn't know what the man expected of him otherwise.

Frightened he watched the man calming down, wondering why he didn't get the beating of his life yet, and then the man stood up, looking at him calmly but strictly, ordering him to get up.

Quickly he obeyed, ignoring the ants that were running through his feet as always after kneeling, and he couldn't help casting a scared look at the man's face for a moment. The man's face was very pale, paler than it had been earlier throughout the evening, and he looked as if he would be ready to kill him here and now. But he was calm.

Then the man ordered to him to use the loo, and to close the door behind him and to wash his hands. But that was against the rules too! He wasn't allowed to close the door. Uncle Vernon always came in after him to watch him and … he again did not understand, but he knew better than asking for clarification or to disobey and quickly he followed the man that led him out of the room, down the hall and then to the loo.

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**To be continued**

**Next time in Tears falling in darkness**

_New rules and a world __turned upside down_

**Added author's note**

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you

* * *

**September 13th, 2013**

**Dear readers,**

just wish to inform you about another story – "… and sit a while with me …" – which will shortly start on the Profile of mrs. trabi here on fanfiction.

you will find some known persons in this story, and you will find one or another known incident in the story because the author of the story is me, even though I am posting this story not on my own profile but on my daughter's, and for several reasons so – one of it being because it's a rather unique story compared to my others.

more details you will learn while visiting mrs. trabi's profile:

www fanfiction net /u/2473886/mrs-trabi


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